The Renegades: The Awakening
by Elentari2
Summary: Half-elves are renegades, living apart of the affairs of Middle earth. While the Free People struggle through the aftermath of 1st War of the Ring, one peredhel passes to a world made of magic. Renegades Book 1. Revised. Complete! HP-LoTR crossover
1. Prologue: Something new under the sun

**Disclaimer:**Characters, cultures, names and etc belong to J.R.R. Tolkien Estate Limited, also New Line Cinema and lots of others. But certainly not me. Characters, cultures, places and concepts you do not recognize are mine or based on other stories. No profit being made.  
  
**A.N.:** I wish to leave here my deep gratitude for Farah, Jennn and Irith, who have helped me immensely making this particular troublesome piece a little more palatable.

_It is August of 2004, two years after my first publishing of this series_. Several helpful critics and (hopefully) some writing maturing passed by in between, and in a burst of honesty I admitted the story had a few corners to be trimmed before I was happy with it. I am flattered with the warm reception The Renegades has had from the community, specially considering how neglected the Crossovers Fics tend to be. In respect of that, too, as well as for my own, I have (once again) revised it.  
  
**PROLOGUE: SOMETHING NEW UNDER THE SUN.**_  
  
"You think the only people who are people, are the people who look and think like you. But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger, you'll learn things you never knew…" Color of the wind, Pocahontas soundtrack._**  
  
Northern Wilds, beyond the Ered Mitrhin. March 25, 12 T.A.**  
  
Almáriel found herself in a completely unknown field. They had gone much farther to the north than she'd liked – and it made her uneasy, as the group was small and they found the once clear path filled with hateful orcs. She was in a diplomatic mission for the Lady Galadriel, in an attempt to contact the sylvan realm of Arthon , far north from Greenwood the Great. But when they left the forest, instead of finding the joyful woods of Arthon, there was nothing but a huge clearing.  
  
With two armies at war.  
  
Not only were all the beloved trees and animals gone, not only there was no trace of the huge Elfish Kingdom that was supposed to be there, with thousands of light, magical beings, but instead, two human armies fighting. Men whose armies stretched as far as the eyes could see. And an elf can see very, very far.  
  
The twenty elves stood there for a couple of minutes, mesmerised by the knights before them. They had never seen humans fighting like that. It was far from the middle earth idea of standing in line till the last one had fallen - it was ferocious, but smart. Disciplined groups moved as one, with purpose, strategy, and might.  
  
No wonder Arthon had disappeared. Even the elfish aim with a bow could not pluck off the fiery waves of soldiers now claiming the blood soaked ground. Almáriel cried for her brothers and sisters, certain that they had vanished from whatever they called this place now. However, she would not loose her wits. She was not just any elf, she was Almáriel, the elven ambassador, distinguished for her spirit and wisdom.  
  
They had to get out of there before the humans saw the oldest of races.  
  
A small wave of gold and green, they urged their horses to run to the forest. They were almost there, when her sixth sense, her own kind of elfish magic, told her she had been noticed. A couple of seconds after she could feel the arrows falling everywhere around her, and heard the desperate cries of her bodyguards. She hoped their wounds would be light and they could make it till the forest. One by one her comrades fell, swept dead by the ocean of arrows. _(Why do they even bother attacking something as small as us? They must be positively evil!)_ The well-trained horses tried to escape, but the arrows were everywhere, and, much to her horror, she saw a medium group detach from the main army and chase them. They all wore iron armour.  
  
She heard the sorrow-filled cry of the very last bodyguard, and turned to see her comrades as she reached the borders of the dark forest. Her kind had such a power over the natural things that the trees offered her shelter, hiding her from the soldiers all over. She could see her partners, her fellows, her friends, lying on the floor, clearly dead, their lovely bodies emptied of life and their merry voices silent forever. But there was hope that they might come back. Maybe the Valar would allow them to return from The Halls of Mandos.  
  
Almáriel was then seething, and determined to let her lieges know of this mortals' threat. They would learn not to provoke the wrath of the elves.  
  
Almáriel urged her horse deep in the forest, aware that these humans, no matter what, would never get through the dangers of this particular environment. Problem was, neither would she.  
  
So she waited. Almáriel was certain that the men would leave sooner or later, that a chance of escape would present itself.  
  
She watched as the victorious army built a citadel in no time. Most of the soldiers left, but still some remained to take care of the newly won territory. And soon some people, civil people, came in large caravans to inhabit the place. It was official. They would not leave.  
  
She had to. She may be an elf, but sooner or later, she'd suffer from starvation. Her horse was getting thinner, but he, at least, had the grass. So she left her arboreal shelter and started to walk away from them, through the borders of the forest.  
  
She was tired, starving and sad. And sadness, for elves, could become fatal.  
  
After travelling for weeks, she was caught by a patrol. She wanted to run, but her hungry horse would not obey her. And she was not in conditions to rage against the well-fed horses of the soldiers before her. So she was taken to the military leader of the citadel, head high on the air, every ounce of her kind and family's pride burning in her soul. She was dirty and hungry, her royal robes ripped and her black hair loose on her back.  
  
The man looked straight into her eyes and spoke something she didn't quite understand at first. She made an effort to clear her mind and concentrate on reading his mind- mortals hardly could sense it, save perhaps some of the numenoreans of purer blood, it would be an effort not wasted.  
  
He didn't.  
  
_'Who are you?'_ was what he was saying. She read the memories of his homeland, an icy desert country where caravans were always coming and going. Bears. Mountains. Marshes and grassy plains. A rocky precipice, an island lost in the cold and stormy ocean. Huge stone cities, not like what she heard of the dwarves, but out in the open. Huge castles, aqueducts, theatres. People. All kind of people, different skin colours, wrapped in weird robes, artificial, articulated hairdressing, and war. Lots of it. His people obviously lived for it, to conquest lands and make slaves. The very idea of slaves made her ill.  
  
The military leader of the citadel was a young man. Auburn, full, short hair, the deepest blue eyes and the body of one that has been fighting since an early age. Some scars were visible – quite typical for a soldier. Unlike elves, whose scars heal and soon fade. He was tall too, for a man, much like the numenoreans.  
  
"My name is Almáriel." She answered in his tongue. She was answering straight to his mental waves, so she didn't have to think about speaking the language. There was no way she would tell who she was or where she came from. Her brothers had to be protected.  
  
"My name is Glauco Antonius," he answered, his full lips opening in a big, playful, yet tired, smile. "Where are you from?"  
  
_'As if I would tell you, stranger'_ "I lived with my brothers in the forest. But you killed them. You killed them all." She said, only knowing the words after they were out.  
  
"I am sorry. We were in the middle of battle and we thought you would be enforcements for our opponents." He told her, sincerely. She fought back the anger for losing her friends out of a stupid suspicion: it was war. People kill before they could ask anything._ Mortals._  
  
"Is there anyone you'd like to stay with? Any place you might want to go?" he asked quietly.  
  
Almáriel was not fooled. Living four thousand years teaches people a thing or two. If she went anywhere, she would betray her kind's location. Greenwood would be engulfed as Arthon had been. And then, nothing to keep her kind's heritage alive but the powers of her lady, Laurelindórinan. [1] As if they did not have enough trouble to deal with.  
  
"They are all dead. We were going to stay with our family here, but when we got here, they were nowhere to be seen. What happened to the city that was here?" she said carefully. It was not a proper lie. It was plausible. And it would lead him to think all her relatives were dead. No big army attacking Greenwood or Laurelindórinan.  
  
"Oh, my," he stared at her, as if seeing her for the first time. Then he took a resolution, "You'll stay at my place. It's not safe a young girl like you alone in the world, and most certainly not safe here among so many soldiers. Later you can stay or leave, as you wish."  
  
She was surprised.  
  
He was being honest. How odd.  
  
**  
Catalos, Dorian. 52 T.A. **  
  
Fifty years had come and gone. Almáriel tried to resist as hard as she could, gathering all her kind's pride but it was hopeless- she had fallen in love with the kind general. And it was a new feeling- she had never experienced anything this fierce before.  
  
They got married, of course, and had kids. Two of them, actually (quite odd for an elf to have so many kids in such a short time… but her husband was a man, and that was _something_), Andrea and Arien. It had been very hard to explain to Glauco the ceremonies of Essecarmë, the name-giving. Of course it had to be done in secrecy. But Almáriel would not forgo that tradition.  
  
The citadel evolved into a big city, people coming and going all the time. Almáriel was glad they didn't want to go inside the forest, otherwise it would have been the end of the woodland realm. The dorianin were too busy with the war at the northern border. The elves of Arthon, it seemed, had not been annihilated. They had simply moved up to a fortified position where they could combat the men with more protection. In all fairness it ought to have been a quick confrontation, yet the iron armours and the defensive lines of the dorianin were giving the elves more trouble than the Firstborn had liked.  
  
Almáriel, however, knew it was only a matter of time. She also knew she would never be accepted back. It had been the ultimate betrayal; no one would ever accept her back. Ever. They might as well think she was dead.  
  
Andrea was a six feet tall, dark, a stunning and mysterious young man. Girls sighed whenever he passed by, dark-grey eyes in his flawless pale skin. Arien was a bit smaller, five feet height, but she was only twenty years old. Her blood-red hair distinguished her from any other girl around. Big narrowed childish blue-jewel eyes, always playing some sort of mischief around the farm.  
  
Glauco taught them swordsmanship, whenever he was on leave from the fighting. He spoke much about the codes of his people, and the human philosophy. Almáriel taught them how to use a bow, how to speak in elvish, how to listen to the trees and animals- even if it was harder for them, she pushed it till they got it right, how to walk leaving no trail, how to track, how to admire all wild things. The history of her people, even the embarrassing parts that elves did not disclose outside some very selected circles, their history and tradition.  
  
And she taught them about their own kind.  
  
The renegades. Something new under the sun.  
  
Not all the elves acquiesced to go in the Great Journey, that is, the journey to Valinor. There was a house called Avari, The Refusers, who did not trust the Valar and decided to stay on that land… they went east, and it is said some of them still dwelt in the east somewhere. When the Elves and the Men first met they did something they regretted afterwards.  
  
They were in wonder at each other, something new and fresh in a world where the Sun and moon were but recently made . From that initial meeting many of the first half-elven were born in the wild, and sundered from the other clans of _quendi_ who were travelling to the West. And for a time, all was at peace. A time - a few lives of men, some centuries… but the People of Starlight and the Children of the Sun were not supposed to be together. Soon the drifts were apparent, as the elves grew wiser and the men continued the same, with their limited life.  
  
Eventually, it became difficult to pinpoint what, exactly, had happened. Everyone who knew about it was either dead or not talking. A few rumours spread timidly, becoming lost and twisted and so different from their original versions that it was nearly impossible to distinguish the truth. It was, of course, not found in any records, since the Avari moved away and no longer socialised with other people. Men's memory was weak, and soon they were but a distant memory, the echo of a dream.  
  
Humans followed their doom of living and dying, and the renegades were forgotten. When the house of Finwë left Valinor after the Silmarilli, there was nothing but those whispers. And aside from a few circles, nobody spoke a word.  
  
The children were grown then, and lived outside the circles of their parents' family. And the _renegades_ wandered around Middle-earth, moving like shadows from one country to the other, living mostly among humans. Mortals were rarely able to distinguish them apart. And the renegades were then legion.  
  
But then something happened. A shadow insinuated itself in the woods. An unidentifiable fear, a dim threat. There were perils in the shade, a nameless hunter that set the hearts of all people of good faith cold. In a very obscure day, they somehow managed to put their kind together and built a city for themselves. Few there were who knew the tale, and fewer that cared much with trying to find them, worried as they were with the fight against Melkor.  
  
Earth had swallowed them. And everybody was happy about it.  
  
_"We are going to search for your kind's city someday. That's the one place safe for you."_

A.N.: 

1- Laurelindórinan - that's the ancient name of Lothlórien. Later it would be called Laurenande. Then Lothlórien.


	2. Chapter 1: The Rainmaker

**Chapter 1- The Rainmaker.**_  
  
"My head's spinning, boy I'm in that day. Feel isolated, don't wanna communicate" Never Ever, All Saints._**  
  
Catalos, Dorian. October 23th, 62 T.A.**  
  
It was such a pretty day. It was her birthday. And Keptah was coming home.  
  
They had plenty of those days then, as the autumn was not yet giving way to winter. Arien rarely felt the bitter cold of the environment, even as winter was approaching fast, and with it the heavier robes of the natives. This province of the Empire had developed at an amazing rate. The empire spread its arms from east to west and north. But they never went south. Arien knew Almáriel thanked her gods everyday for that.  
  
Poor Almáriel. Away from everything and everybody she loved. Forever exiled. To someone who was once in such a high position, it must be hard. Arien knew the love she had for family was the only thing that kept her Almáriel from fading. The sorrow that would poison her soul to death. Elves can be very fragile.  
  
But she was radiant today. Her hair in a fashion that kept her pointed ears hidden - they were the only ones that knew the truth. Glauco was obliged to make up a fake genealogy that said Almáriel was of numenorean blood to get married with her, forty-five years ago. It was such a common practice throughout the Empire, but he did it only because they were in love, and otherwise they could never be together.  
  
'_They still are, after all these years_' Arien thought with a sigh, and walked down to the parlour.  
  
Almáriel finally finished telling the children about the War of the Ring and the last Alliance of Men and Elves. Sometimes, it was as if the noldo felt quite uncomfortable to tell this kind of things, but Almáriel went through with it anyway. She said most the elves were rather annoyed about having human help at war, but Sauron was too powerful a foe, and elves had their numbers greatly diminished after such long fighting- first against Melkor, then his lieutenant, Sauron.  
  
Shaking her head with a start, Arien returned to the more pressing matters. It was time to prepare the feast. They were going to make some local plates. Almáriel ran a store at the center of town, of arts and books, of course, and some very nice jewelry. Dorianians just loved them. Glauco's position was very good too, so they lived in a very comfortable place.  
  
_'Oh, I'll be damned. They are already seated for lunch. I must stop being late for meals.'_  
  
"Care to join?" Her father Glauco was always joking. Arien wondered idly if he ever got angry outside of the battlefield. His hair had started to gray, but it fit him anyway. And she hoped he'd retire quickly - she didn't want to have one of those soldiers from his lituria telling her he had been killed in action. She wanted Glauco to go with them to the hidden kingdom and stay there till the end of his days.  
  
"Absolutely," she said in her polite, shy, metal-melting tone. They held one another's hands and gave thanks for the day. Almáriel had at first protested about such an intimate treatment of the gods, but Glauco would not give in on that. When Andrea finished his prayer, she felt a very familiar tingle. She could feel the presence she had missed so badly, still faint but becoming stronger. Keptah was coming. She felt him.  
  
And then he entered the room. Short, thin, brown-skin and deep, black eyes. With that warm smile that could light the darkest day. Keptah was the healer of the family. And also a very good friend of Glauco's.  
  
"Seems I came in an inappropriate time?" he said, deep rich voice.  
  
"Of course not!" Arien forgot her _aristocratic manners_ and jumped at his neck. Keptah was about two inches shorter than her. "What were things like at the old Alleannia? Got yourself bored to death?"  
  
"Nobody could be bored at Alleannia, dear! But I did miss you. And all of you." He hugged the girl. That would be a scandal, 'servants' treated as family. But Keptah was family.  
  
The rest of lunch occurred in a far better mood, as they talked about that particular city of the Empire. It held a very famous library and University, where Keptah went to renew his knowledge in healing.  
  
The kids were allowed some time after lunch, their nap time. They couldn't keep themselves awake like Almáriel. In the growing phases, the elvish children need much more slumber than an adult would ever do. Almáriel could daydream and be satisfied. But not the children.  
  
Keeping herself safe in the shade, Arien sneaked to Andrea's bed and hugged him. She liked to sleep like that, listening to his heartbeat slowing to a quiet rhythm. Almáriel had complained often about that habit, but in that the siblings were adamant, and would not be corrected.  
  
That's when they heard it. Their heartbeats increased incredibly.  
  
"What do you mean, they are raising questions?" Glauco cried. Arien had never seen - or heard, for that matter- him being that upset.  
  
"You cannot expect them not to become suspicious, Glauco. War is growing fierce. Men are becoming wary. You have been notoriously unwilling to aid in the struggle." Keptah always kept his voice low and smooth.  
  
"Shows he has more sense than the lot of them," Almáriel spat. The amount of pain in her voice scared the children. Realization was beginning to dawn on the younglings. "It is obvious this realm will not stand long. If anything, their endurance will enflame the elves further."  
  
"Do you know anything?" the doctor asked Almáriel, clearly.  
  
"I know my kind will not suffer this offence for long. They shall win back their homeland."  
  
"Well, neither do we. There will be no truce, of that I am certain. Spirits are rather exalted at Alleannia.."  
  
"Hell, no!" Glauco shouted. In the bed, Andrea held Arien tighter. The girl felt something humid on her neck, he was crying. She realised she'd never seen him crying before. She squeezed his hands, comfortingly. And felt her own tears running down her cheek.  
  
"There will be no truce," Almáriel stated, her voice controlled and calm once again. "We must take the children somewhere safe. It is long overdue."  
  
"What do you mean?" Keptah asked, and Glauco whispered something Arien couldn't quite understand.  
  
"We have to leave. Immediately. We have to find the city and see to it that the children will be safe. They are bound to offer shelter to their own kin." Almáriel spoke again. Her mind set, her will on control.  
  
"Are you sure about it, Keptah?" Glauco asked quietly. The healer must have made a sign, because a few seconds later Glauco spoke again. "Then we cannot linger. Our best chance will be after the feast, since everyone will assume we are resting from the festivities and they will take a while before searching for us."  
  
Arien stood up and walked down the hall. The house was big, and had one side opened so Almáriel wouldn't feel confined. They were still there, faces pale in the splendour of the afternoon sun. The wind was blowing so gently. Her brother's hand was cold on her shoulder.  
  
"We need to settle things. Horses, supplies, maps…" Glauco began matter-of-factly. He didn't admit discussion. Everyone busied himself with something, and Arien was left to pack some clothes for all of them. The servants were at the kitchen preparing the meal for her twentieth birthday party.  
  
At the end of the afternoon, all things were packed and ready. The four-horse wagon was settled. Arien went to the bedroom to get dressed. Andrea was flirting lightly with one of his friends at the yard. He never went any further, though. Almáriel had warned them since birth not to bind themselves, that they'd be in the country only for a brief while.  
  
Then the guest started to arrive.  
  
It was the good old ritual: music, congratulations, dancing. Toasts to Arien's health and hugs; all the whilst praying the guests would leave early. The family was anxious to be as far away as possible from there before dawning. The departure of a general would certainly be one hell of a mess. They had better be far when the officers realised.  
  
Arien retired at about half an hour to midnight. The horses were rested, and they had taken the care of covering the wheels and hoofs with straw and leaves- it would make them all the harder to be tracked. At the last minute it was decided to mount them one mile away from the house, so nobody would suspect anything. She had finished putting on the heavy black robes and cloak when she heard cries on the first pavement.  
  
The girl hurried down with a pang in her belly that told something was truly wrong.  
  
It was Marcus, with a handful of soldiers on his side. He was talking something about high betrayal, but who could possibly know they were leaving tonight? Not even our servants had the time to find out!  
  
She'd never forget the look on Glauco's face that night.  
  
Andrea made a very subtle sign towards her, as he could feel her presence in the room. Almáriel took a few steps back in her direction, telling quietly in sindarin to leave the building and try to get hold of some weapon, if the way was clear. Marcus had taken great pleasure in clarifying what the soldiers were doing in the house, how it was decided among the faithful that Glauco's behaviour could only be explained as that of a traitor, including some surreal thesis about the general sneaking off his camp to provide the elves with crucial information about Dorian.  
  
They had been betrayed. Not by any of the servants, and nobody even knew that could possibly want to leave. Marcus, one of Glauco's brothers-in-arms and close friends, thought it necessary to tell the governor of the Province Glauco was a traitor. Which he wasn't, of course, how could they prove it? Marcus was convinced Glauco had turned sides. They'd be executed, as an example. Well, if the governor was kind enough, they would only kill Glauco, and then all belongings would be transferred to Marcus as a reward for his loyalty (_Bastard!_); and Andrea, Almáriel and Arien would be under his '_protection_'. But of course Andrea would be killed also. What murderer lets a grown up son free to avenge the father's death?  
  
Maybe they'd say it was an accident. The whole bloody Empire was filled with these disgusting stuff.  
  
Then Arien realised Keptah's body laid on the floor, lifeless. the servants had tried to take it away, but none of the warriors allowed them to.  
  
Glauco and Andrea were in the middle of the room, unarmed, with a good dozen soldiers around them. Almáriel was halfway to the yard, the open side of the house, and Arien was behind her.  
  
They had not much time.  
  
Almáriel ran to the door as Andrea and Glauco disarmed the closest soldiers, using their swords to kill them. Almáriel returned with one wagon to pick them all, most of the luggage had been sacrificed for the sake of lightness and speed. She had ran quite fast. But now, as the soldiers saw it, they had to die. The fifth and sixth struggled with Glauco, even as Almáriel resolutely picked one of the fallen soldier's swords and felled the eight and ninth with a clean wipe across the abdomen. They had almost escaped when, to their utter terror, the elves heard more of them coming, attracted by the cries of the agonizing knights.  
  
'**They're coming! Let's run now!**' Almáriel cried in elvish. Glauco was watching their backs as Andrea and Arien ran to the wagons. But there were more of the soldiers there also. Almáriel produced a bow from somewhere and let fly arrow after arrow to keep the path clean. But she would run out of them soon. Marcus was not stupid, after all.  
  
Arien felt an emptying within her, as if a star had burnt out, and cried in agony. Then it got worse. She saw Andrea turning back. He wasn't going to go. He stood there helping clean the path, as Glauco was dead.  
  
"**No! Come with us!**" - Arien cried back. But he was stubborn. He would not survive long, alone there with only one sword and twenty knights around him. The women jumped at the wagon and turned it to be ready for a desperate withdrawn.  
  
And then the inevitable happened. He was hit. Hard. Almáriel drove the horses out to the road, even as Arien cried hysterically on her side. Then she pushed the reigns firmly into the child's hands, and with an unnatural, strong whipping on the horses, made the beasts take the wagon far.  
  
And then he was gone. His body fell on the ground slowly, just as Arien heard the violent sound of thunder. She felt the rain on her face. Then she heard Almáriel's voice in her mind. The noldo was already on the ground, and fighting. The soldiers were taken by surprise; nobody knew Almáriel could fight like that. And they paid dearly for it, as several fell on the ground with every thrust of hers.  
  
-_You have to go now, darling_- Almáriel told Arien, without saying a word.  
  
**'I can't leave without you, nanna...'** the child said back. However the horses continued running fast, inflexible and determinate. Arien was becoming quite desperate. Dark clouds veiled the stars, and suddenly a heavy rain was falling, making the wagon sway dangerously.  
  
-_I won't stand much longer. Put a good distance between you and these things. And stay away from the elves, if you can. They will not be friendly to you. Now go!_  
  
And then there was thunder.  
  
Arien could no longer grasp Almáriel's presence.  
  
The soldiers, mad with fury, came to the youngling as Arien but the horses ran swiftly towards the road ahead of the yard. They were all amazing horses, the best money could've bought.  
  
It was as dark as dark could get. Every ray of moonlight was hidden by a huge mass of dark clouds, and it rained as if heavens were crying with her. Crying for her. And Arien thanked the heavens because the rain would vanish every sign she could possibly leave behind.  
  
So she travelled all night long.  
  
The horses were starting to get tired when it dawned, but the girl couldn't give herself the luxury of stopping for anything. She knew the weak link of the chain. The spot Almáriel was stopped, fifty years ago. The Empire patrols went everywhere around that forest. There was only one option for her.  
  
Arien needed to go southwards, across the Mountain Woods.  



	3. Chapter 2: The Hard Long Path to Heaven

**Chapter 2: The Hard and Long Path to Heaven **_  
  
"Isn't it weird? Isn't it strange? Even thought we're both two strangers in this runaway train we're both trying to find a place in the sun. we've lived in the shadows, but doesn't everyone? isn't it strange how we all feel a little bit weird sometimes¼  
  
Isn't it hard, standing in the rain? Yeah, you're in the verge of going crazy and your heart is in pain¼ No one can hear, though you're screaming so loud. You feel like you're all alone in this faceless crowd. Isn't it strange how we all get a little bit weird sometimes?" Weird, Hanson_  
  
Arien ignored the growing threat in her mind and went further inside the forest. For all that she knew from the empire, they never went south, so this was the only safe path for her. Odd that she called safe a thing her mother herself was afraid to face.  
  
It hasn't stopped raining ever since. She was grateful for that, for everything was so dark and the ground was so wet no trail would be found later. With such a storm, Arien doubted even the sylvan elves that live here will find a thing. She was soaked to the bones. The horses were not feeling well either, poor ones. It had been two weeks, and she barely stooped to eat, feed the horses and sleep. If she was found, she was doomed.  
  
But now the trees were closer to one another, making it difficult to Arien to move in quickly.  
Taking a deep breath, Arien tried to focus on her current predicament. She was supposed to find a glade, or at least an easier path to drive the wagon through. And she should do it before the rain stopped, too, and leave Greenwood's borders as soon as possible. Exhaustion was beginning to show its big, ugly head, but she was too scared to stop.  
  
She was in the verge of the triangle: _Greenwood, Rivendell and Laurenindórinan_. Her life did not have much worth if she was caught here; if her mother's words were correct. she must go to the East, around Greenwood, then find a way to the forest of Fangorn, the oldest. He may know how to reach the hidden city.  
  
Two months came and went.  
  
There was a bad side of the raining, of course. Even if it had hidden her trails to whoever might be tracking her, it has increased amazingly the water level. And now how could she pass that ocean ahead of her?  
  
But she needed to. Fangorn was across the river. The ground was so soaked it was hard to control the wagon. The rain was fading, day after day.  
  
Arien grew further worried as she checked the map. There was no straight road to Fangorn forest- as a matter of fact, the path was interrupted by many rivers, and she had not the means to cross them.  
  
She decided to camp a little far from the riverbank, until the rain ceased. Then she could look for a ford. But Arien was running out of supplies, and she herself didn't have much of a food. Things were starting to get desperate.  
  
Spring was bound to come, even in that godforsaken place. The moon appeared briefly between one gathering of clouds and other, full and silver. The dark clouds were a good thing, otherwise she'd be seen with no doubt.  
  
Or maybe ...  
  
Elves. They were not supposed to come this far away from Laurenindórinan, were they?  
  
"Hail," said the taller, when they were close enough. There were five of them and he spoke in the Common Tongue.  
  
"Hail" the elfling answered.  
  
"What are you doing lost here?" the dark-haired asked. He was the only dark elf of the group, all others had golden hair.  
  
_'What do you mean, silly? If I am lost, or what I am doing here?' _  
  
"Trying to cross the river and go to Gondor." Arien answered politely, still in the Common Tongue. They exchanged quick glances  
  
"You won't be able to cross the river with this wagon" said the first.  
  
_'Don't these people have manners? Won't they introduce themselves?'_  
  
"So I see." Arien sighed. It was getting cold. She turned inside the wagon to get a dry tunic, but all five settled their bows.  
  
" 'Tis all right!. Just some clothing. It's quite cold." she showed her clothes slowly and put it on. She was shivering.  
  
"The Lady told us to be careful with the one that comes with the storm."  
  
"I didn't come with the storm. The storm was on my way. And I'd be delighted if it would cease for a day. I'm about to get a cold. Can you help me?" she said, seeing they wouldn't leave till something was done.  
  
"We were just making sure of your destination, mistress." said the dark-haired.  
  
_'Oh, yes, you didn't want this filthy scum on your precious land, so you came to make sure I wouldn't even think of making a visit, isn't that?'_  
  
"All right, then. But as you are here, could you tell me where there is a ford so I can try to cross this river?" The elves looked at each other again, and Arien could swear they were discussing whether they should tell her. But, seemingly, the will to get rid of the girl was stronger.  
  
"Follow the river for about a day of march. It's lower there." The leading elf stared at her long and hard, trying, doubtlessly, to gather how much information that youngling could absorb. And then decided to make things very simple. "You will also find the Limlight river, which is not this wide. And it's quite low also. Then you cruise southwest till you find a the Entwash. Have a care with that one. Rohan lies yonder. There you can ask for information."  
  
"Thank you very much, sir" Arien answered with her best iron-melting smile. The elfling then pulled the reins and commanded her horses to southeast. She was not stupid. They were telling her to leave immediately. She felt them still as stones in the rain, watching as she went away. Luckily for Arien, they could not read her mind. But the Lady could. And Arien didn't want that.  
  
Nervous, the girl only allowed the horses to stop after she had crossed both rivers. She found herself in a meadow. Luxury green grass everywhere, so she left the animals loose to eat a little. They were starting to thin. Arien ate melancholically the last pieces of mushroom and one apple.  
  
The sun had not risen yet, but everything was already set. That day Arien planned to walk into the forest of Fangorn, the oldest. The horses got all the rest they needed in the previous day, and most her clothes are dry. The girl was running out of food, but that'll be arranged later. She could always hunt some wild animal for lunch.  
  
Arien rode slowly into the forest. It was indeed very different from the forest she have seen before; it was more solemn and mysterious. She can feel something watching her, but it was not humanoid, or so she guessed. When the feeling became positively hostile, Arien decided to introduce herself.  
  
"Hello?" Arien said loudly, almost yelling.  
  
Silence. She decided it was better try again.  
  
"Fangorn? I am from the half-elves, or half-humans, as you please, and I was told you might know where the city of my kind is. _Please?"_  
  
Hostility slowed down, to her greatest relief. Arien sensed something moving. There was something interfering, nevertheless. She heard a deep husky voice speaking from her backs.  
  
"Oh, I never knew there was any of you little people still walking loose. How's your name, child?"  
  
Arien turned slowly before answering, wide-eyed. Whenever she arrived at the place, Arien will surely be able to say she had seen the oddest things without lying. So that was an Ent. He looked like some bizarre crossover between humans and trees, more tree-like. His dark-green glittering eyes showing both wisdom and curiosity.  
  
"My name is Arien. I am a renegade." She spoke simply, trusting he would understand. And he did. He - sort of - smiled at her.  
  
"You are far, far away of where you are suppose to be, little child. I was left with the directions because there were plenty of you around here in the past. It was much before the Golden Lady came to Laurenindórinan, and the trees of our forests met in these days. Now the forest is growing smaller, and I haven't seen one of you for ages--"  
  
Her stomach made a loud noise, interrupting the Ent's speech. Arien blushed deeply. And then, the tree-shepherd winked.  
  
"Hungry, are you? Come to my place. We can discuss everything there. And I can give you something to drink, I think you are going to like it..."  
  
Arien followed him, noticing the trees deviated for them to pass. He walked pretty fast, deeper and deeper into the heart of the forest. When they arrived, she let the horses loose to eat some grass and rest, and went into the house... of the oldest.  
  
He gave her a vessel filled with rich, earthy water - that to her surprise made her feel very satisfied - and began to tell the child stories of her kind, when Malanna and some of his friends, tired of being kicked from one place to another (especially in such dangerous times...), have decided to put all renegades together in a magic city in where they'd be safe. He told her of how, for some centuries, several half-elves from basically everywhere went to Fangorn hidden in the shadows to ask information about Antar. And then, as the sun was setting, he told her how Arien do to get there.  
  
Fangorn was right. Arien had taken the longer way- but then again, she wouldn't be able to travel in a straight line with the whole empire in the middle of the way. The elfling had to go east. Forever. It seemed like the trip would last for a good four months. Arien desperately needed to obtain supplies.  
  
The plan was to cross the rivers _again_, go back to the bottom border of Greenwood the Great, then across the wasteland, where the wildmen tribes live, and cross the Rhûn sea, always eastwards. Then she'd find the mountains of Arneth.  
  
"But Fangorn, I am lacking provisions. I am going to need some food. How could I get them?"  
  
"There is a village of beornings not too far from your path. You could get some there. Do you have anything to negotiate?" he asked kindly. Arien thought with some awe that Fangorn was a romantic at heart, and that he sympathized with the renegades in more ways than one...  
  
"Yes, I have some gold left¼ and a few gems.." Arien said as she put the rest of her wet clothes to dry at his cavern. He walked to a small waterfall and stood there, arms up.  
  
"Where are your parents, child?"  
  
"They are dead." Arien whispered. She heard thunder, and it began to rain, but not so violently as it had of late.  
  
"I know what you feel like" he spoke softly, eyes filled with understanding. "Now rest a little, tomorrow I can show you the way."  
  
"Night"  
  
"Night"  
  
Crossing was out of consideration, Arien decided grimly. It would break her neck.  
  
Arien had no precise idea of time anymore. She could tell whether it was early June or late August. She felt content enough that she had made it- it was no small feat. Oddly, there was nothing but sand there. Maybe she should come closer. Fangorn had told her it was right after the Arneth Mountains. It must be around there somewhere.  
  
And there it was. Antar. Arien could see it far away against the bleeding sky. Exotic trees, some animals running to their burrows before nightfall, and the top of the buildings, barely visible above the walls.  
  
The elfling decided it was better camp for the night. She wanted to be fresh when she walks into Antar. Ilúvatar knows what she may find there.  
  
She lied down in the grass, trying to realize what time of the year it was then. Roughly nine months of travelling, avoiding orcs, trolls, thieves, and elves. Funny to put the so-called 'goodie' ones among the most hated menaces of the free world.  
  
Arien realized it was better get some sleep. She was rambling.  
  
With _herself. _  
  
The girl couldn't sleep well, as she was too agitated. But the animals got some rest, at least. It would be wonderful to sleep in a real bed, after so long. And take a real bath. And eat a proper meal. What would happen when she gets there, the child wondered, suddenly afraid. Would they put her under responsibility of the government or what? What laws, what costumes would they have?  
  
There was a huge marble arch in a wide stonewall. She was only merely annoyed that she cannot see the city anymore, for the walls were tall indeed. However, it did feel as if it was a different wall- taller, maybe, or simply smoother¼ Arien was not very sure. The only thing she did know was that she was too confused to pass judgment. The elfling went to the gate and it opened.  
  
She took a deep breath and urged the horses forward, entering a city as she'd never seen before.  
  
A.N.: In the case you're not familiar with LoTR End of Second Age/beggining of Third Age geography, you have _Greenwood the Great _( later known as _Mirkwood_) northeast, _Laurenindórinan _(later known as _Lothlórien or Lórien_) southwest and _Imladris or Rivendell _west. Between Rivendell and the others there was a huge mountain range, called the Misty Mountains in a wide vertical line. Between Greenwood and Laurenindórinan there is the Anduin, a huge, wide river. And between Laurenindórinan and Fangorn there is two rivers, the Anduin itself and the Entwash.  
  
North to Mirkwood, you have the Grey Mountains, a little northeast, the lone mountain. Hope it helps you.  



	4. Chapter 3: Not where I had to be

**Chapter 3: Not where I had to be.**

_"Please come now, I think I'm falling. I'm holding on to all I think is safe. It seems I found the road to somewhere, somewhere we'll be safe" One last breath, Creed._

**August 1994**

As far appearances go, the place was not quite so different from Catalos, where Arien used to live. It has streets and avenues, houses of brick, stone, gardens and parks. But there are also buildings far larger than the ones dorianians built at home. There are also some very weird vehicles, stores (or at least Arien thought it was a store), and people walking by in odd attires (it seemed much more appropriate to winter than midsummer, to Arien's better judgment). That girl also saw a huge marble building that had a plate with golden characters, though she could not identify the language. Or the runes, for that matter. People went by chatting loudly, and most of them seemed to be content enough, even excited- however, Arien could not make anything of what they said.

A middle-age matron had been observing her for some minutes, amidst the chaos of younglings running around, with the parents close in their tales trying not to loose sight of them. Arien registered, with some shock that they were mortals. The matron says something to a bald man, who was currently trying to tame a handful of hyperactive children, and approaches the elfling with a comprehensive smile on her face and asks something, but again, Arien cannot understand the words.

"I'm sorry." Arien said, trying desperately to find a breech in the woman's feeble mental shield. It shouldn't be so hard, since there was not much of a barrier, and Arien was used to the procedure in her own home, but she was tired and hungry and it seriously interfered in her concentration. A little crowd of redheaded people walked in our direction. "Is this Antar?"

"Antar? No, it's the Diagon Alley, dear"

There. Arien had made it. The connection was far from perfect, but it would do for the moment. "I was told this was the road to Antar. I've travelled eight months to get here. Could you tell me where I go from here? To reach Antar?"

A bald man behind the matron eyed her between suspicion and merry curiosity "You are doing illegal apparating?"

"What is _apparating_?" Arien retorted, only mildly surprised the man had intruded in the dialogue.

"You're not a _muggle_, are you?" one of the boys asked her. It appeared they were all family, and decided to launch at her all at once.

"Muggle?" Arien asked in absolute numbness. She was growing dizzy with all those people she had to keep track of. The thoughts were loud and confused, making her head spin all the more.

"Of course not. No muggle can get in the Diagon Alley, don't you know?" the lady replied, as if it was the most obvious thing.

Arien felt the dam breaking then, and started crying quietly. That was it. After everything that she went through, she was going to die in the hands of those insane people.

"Don't cry, baby. What's the matter with you?" the lady said in a very motherly way, running a hand in the elfling's hair. Arien continued to cry and sob. Everything that could possibly go wrong _had _gone wrong.

"Ron! Hey, there Ron is!" cried a petit girl with frizzy brown hair in the other side of the street, followed by a dark boy with green eyes. The couple ran to where Arien was with the redheaded family - or at least Arien was convinced it must be a family.

"Where is the city?" the elfling asked, not sure of what else she should say.

"We are in the city, dear." The lady said, still not understanding why the poor child was so upset. The matron eyed the small wagon suspiciously, no doubt wondering how the girl had managed to enter with that vehicle into Diagon Alley.

"This is not Antar. Do you know where the _peredhil _are?" Arien asked, saying the name in sindarin.

"Where are what?"

"Never mind. How do I go back to the marble gate?" and then the people around the elfling were stunned for good. The couple had joined the group by now. Everyone stared at Arien as if she was a dragon or some other equally perilous dark creature.

"Where have you seen a marble gate? There's no marble gate." Said a tall boy.

"I've just crossed a marble gate!" Arien yelled anxiously. How could they be arguing in such a stupid thing? She knew what she had just done, and she had just crossed a marble gate! "I went down the dark forest, went to Fangorn to get the coordinates, then back to Dark woods, crossed all wasteland, passed Rhûn Sea and entered the city at the foot of the Arneth Mountain. It's simple!"

"I beg your pardon?" the brown haired girl returned the glare the dark lad threw her. "_Honestly_."

Arien thought she'd have better chances at trying to invade Lothlórien.

"Dear, are you all right? You look so pale!" the lady stated, oblivious to the elfling's recent burst of bad temper.

"I'm lost." Arien said, holding her head with both hands.

"Look, we have to buy the children's supplies for school. But I don't think we should leave you here on your own. Do you have any family? Someone we could contact? Anyplace you could go?"

Arien sighed, remembering Ilmarë had told about her first meeting with Glauco. It was deeply ironic that her daughter was now in a similar situation. And similarly, she sensed these were good people, in whom she could trust.

"No, they are dead. That's why I came, because Antar is the only place safe on Middle Earth."

"Middle earth?" they asked, as lost as Arien.

"Yes." The elfling replied curtly.

"Molly, what do you think?" the man asked the woman, quietly, but the elfling could not help but hear. Humans were always thinking they could talk quietly enough so she would not listen, but she always did.

"I think we must do something. I cannot leave her alone like this."

"Percy can take care of the children as they buy the rest of their stuff. Let's go back home and try to figure something we could do," he said.

"How old are you, darling?" asked the lady, her arm over Arien's shoulder.

"I'm twenty years old." Molly looked down at the children with a barely concealed sigh of irritation.

"You look younger." Said the man, suspiciously.

"I turn twenty-one in four months," Arien said wearily. One could always use the excuse of being a lost member of the numenorean people.

"Let's use the Floo powder at the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace." The bald man said again.

"What?" Arien couldn't help but give a little cry. The situation was growing weirder and

Weirder.

"We travel through fireplaces with this powder, dear."

"Through fireplaces? Is it a... is it like a secret passage? I'd rather take the road, thank you."

"What will we do with this wagon, Arthur? We can't bring it through the Floo net."

Arien gave a horrified look to the wagon. It had sheltered her, it had given her transportation, and it had been her home for all the time she'd been in the wild. She would not bear to be parted from it... And then her gaze fell on the scarce bags of clothes behind her, two small boxes with vegetables that were barely still proper for eating, and a more than well-worn map.

A map.

"Here!" Arien took the Middle earth map from under the smallest bundle of clothes and showed it to them. "I lived here. Then I travelled all this way, till this point here, you see. Now, I think I am lost but if you tell me where I am, I can find the path again."

The lady - Molly- looked at Arien as if the elfling was crazy.

"Dear, I think this is going to take a while to solve. See you have brought plenty of things with you. Do you have a Gryngotts vault?"

"What is Gryngotts?" Arien inquired immediately.

"It's a bank. You put there your money, and they keep it safe for you. Then you can take what you need, as you need."

"Is it safe?"

"Yes, the safest place to keep something precious, behind Hogwarts."

"How could I get one? One vault, I mean?"

"You just go there and ask. You pay a little tax, also, but that's minimal."

"A fee. I see. Well... if it's safe... I guess walking around with them might not be wise. But how would I take the wagon inside the building?"

"Oh, dear!"

Molly and Arthur took Arien to the bank, as their older son took care of the children who finished buying school stuff. Arien was convinced it was best to leave there most of her goods, and for some reason also a small number of clothes. She kept only some money- Arthur tried to convey to her their complicated exchange rate, galleons, sickles and knuts; two books and some clothes.

Someone went off to 'send an owl', and Arien realized she really did not wish to know what that meant. Arthur said he was going to take the wagon, he promised. She was startled enough when Molly gathered the group of human children and put them all into a bright purple carriage that appeared from nowhere and travelled in an absurdly fast pace (And with precious little care, also, considering all the sharp turns and close calls with trees, other carriages, and even solid buildings). The elfling was so shocked with everything she saw when we got to that 'bus' stuff, the fact the wagon was waiting for them when they got home was small wonder really.

When Arien got there, surprises hadn't finished. She thought she'd never understand how that building didn't fall. And how Molly cooked by merely waving a stick of wood, how the boys flied with brooms. And they told there was a Ghoul at the basement.

They ate outside the main building because there was not room for all inside, and then Arien went straight to bed, as they discussed her endlessly. The last thing she heard was that Dumbledore had answered and promised to come early in the morning. Then everything went black.

The sun shone through the curtains of the girls' room. The other girls were still asleep, but Arien thought they wouldn't be for long. The elfling can hear plenty of noise downstairs. It was better to go down and have something to eat.

She was only starting to eat whatever it was that Molly put in front of her- some kind of creamy stuff made of oat- when she heard it. An old man, jumped out of the fireplace, which had green flames as he passed. Her mouth fell open. And that was not a pretty sight, with all the food in it.

"Hello, dear child. You are Arien, I suppose." Arien closed her mouth and swallowed fast.

"Yes. And you must be Dumbledore." she stated.

"Yes, I am here because the Weasleys told me they had a mystery for me to solve. Seems you are far away from home, dear." His eyes were deep blue and glittering, wisdom and compassion in his voice.

Arien started to tell him the whole story, from when her parents met till the day she appeared in that 'Diagon Alley' city. He listened very carefully to the tale, interrupting only to ask some things. They talked plenty about 'her world', as Dumbledore put it.

The elfling brought him her maps, showed the places she'd been through, people, countries, traditions, races, and told all she knew about the history of Middle Earth. Lunch was being served when they stopped talking. They were watching the elf lots, and she knew they were thinking she was mad and came up with the whole story.

"May I use you owl, Harry?" He asked to the dark-haired lad.

"Of course, Professor." Dumbledore then took a piece of parchment out of his pocket and wrote hurriedly on it with a feather. When Harry brought the owl down the old man attached the parchment on her legs and told her where she had to go.

"Deliver this to Professor McGonagall, please." The owl flied away. We spent some time just standing there, in silence. Arien began to feel sleepy. It was naptime.

"Now, my dear, I'll have to check out some tables, but I do believe you crossed an interdimensional gate. If I am right, there is a chance you may be stuck in this reality forever." He said quietly. That woke her up fully.

"What? You mean, I can't go back?"

"There might be another crossing-gate to your world, but these things don't happen often. It may take some time. In the while, what do you plan to do?"

"I don't know. I was going to Antar because I would be among my kind, there. But now. I don't know. I just don't know." her voice trailed off.

Dumbledore looked at her so kindly. Arien kept looking to her shoes, not willing to face anyone, but still able to sense everyone in the room.

He took off one of those sticks they used to charm things and handed it to the child.

"Give this a wave." He said playfully.

"I'm not sure. it's dangerous." She had seen a lot, and had developed a healthy fear for all kinds of wooden sticks.

"It won't do you any harm. Just try." He teased me, and the Weasley family was flabbergasted. Arien thought it was a bit too much for them to handle. Arien took it, carefully, and waved a little.

A hawk materialised and flied. Arien was too surprised to speak. Dumbledore looked like one that was assured of something rather expected, and smiled broadly. He was pleased, so it couldn't be bad.

"Molly, I do believe the girl must go back to Diagon Alley. She has to buy her required supplies. Arien, I do believe you got yourself in the Hogwarts School Witchcraft of and Wizardry. "

At that very moment, a chestnut owl flied to Arien, and dropped a yellow envelope, with a heraldry on it. Arien turned to the professor quizzically. He just raised an eyebrow.

"Haven't I told you? Open it."

The elfling opened the envelope and found two letters inside, which she had to give for Hermione to read because she could not decipher the runes.

"But how?" Arien asked, amazed, when Hermione finished. He had talked to her not even half an hour before the owl delivered the message.  
  
"We're wizards, Arien. And you'll be, too." Dumbledore said. "But you need to buy your supplies. If you give me the honour, Arthur, Molly?" the couple just nodded.

"All right, then. I'll take you to shopping, miss. Let's go through the Floo net." He threw some powder on the fireplace and it turned green.

"You have to say the name of the location clearly. And keep your elbows close to your body and your eyes shut until you start losing speed. Be careful you don't fall on your head." He said, and yelled to the flames:" Diagon Alley!" Arien sent an nervous glare to my hosts, waved goodbye and did the same.

**September 1994**

Some days later, they went to the Station in cars from the ministry. Hermione had seen to it that Arien had a passing knowledge of the culture of their world. That meant a really intense course on something they called roman alphabet- the runes they used to write-, English and even a thing or other in Latin. Molly told her all Arien had to do was to walk through the wall between platform nine and platform ten. But Arien would did not cross that thing alone. _Not after the marble gate_. The elfling pulled Arthur and Molly with her – they were grown up wizards, after all. Ron kept laughing at her till Hermione looked at him in a way it would make hell freeze. Arien have went aboard the train with her new friends, and they quickly accommodated themselves in a cabin.

Arien felt as if her life was swirling as fast as that vehicle was running across the landscape.

After many long hours of travelling, the train stopped at a little village. There was a plate saying 'Hogsmeade'. Arien left not minding about the trunks, as Har-r-ry had told her it would be taken magically to our rooms.

Then a giant called the first years and Arien bid her friends farewell and entered a boat with the other novices, all nervous and excited like herself. At the end of the boat ride the Deputy Headmistress- Professor Minerva McGonagall instructed and led the novices in line to the Great Hall. Albus Dumbledore made a little (and bit of crazy) speech, then the sorting ceremony had begun.

Arien thought maybe that world was not so bad after all.


	5. Chapter 4: The Forbidden Forest

**Chapter 4 : The Forbidden Forest **

"_In case you failed to notice_

_In case you failed to see_

_This is my heart, bleeding before you_

_This is me down on my knees_

_this foolish games are tearing me apart_." Foolish Games, by Jewel.

Spring 1995 

Spring came early, although very few had the presence of spirit to enjoy it.

Arien knew it was a bad time to be at that particular world. She talked to Dumbledore often, and he told her the tale of the modern Wizarding Wars. Seemingly lots of wizards these days were into _'conquer the world'_. Voldemort was the more recent – and one of the most powerful as well. The previous had been some Grindewald, whom Dumbledore had defeated personally.

But she was feeling well, the sun was rising in the sky and Spring was burning in her veins. The golden rays of light invaded the room and the sight beyond her windows was enthralling. Arien felt the longing, standing alone in her room with her other three female classmates.

The Forbidden Forest.

The elfling ached for it so badly. From the moment Arien arrived in that weird world, she had been in noisy cities and trapped inside the solid stone walls of the castle she was growing fond of. But the child missed the woods, however dark they might be. The silent talk of the trees, real trees. She missed the _wild_. Without thinking too much about it, Arien left the tower. She was going to spend some glorious hours in the woods.

Severus woke up with a piercing pain in his left arm. He was being summoned. Again. At six o'clock in the morning. Voldemort was changing his habits and hell was freezing. He pulled his uniform behind his school robes and wrote a quick note to his friend, Albus Dumbledore

He had gone through his list. He had 'arranged' the death of over a dozen people, planning it carefully with the Headmaster in the dead hours of night. He spared as many lives as he could, without getting attention to himself – not that he gave a damn, even when the prospect of a painful death was not dear to him; but he wanted to be useful to Dumbledore in all ways possible. And that meant spying, investigating plans, anticipating targets, getting names. To save lives, he had to kill some.

He had seen it coming from miles, Severus Snape. He was a powerful wizard, and a very intelligent one. Damn, he was _brilliant_. His one mistake, the one that had cursed all his life and ruined the lives of everyone around him, was that he had once joined Voldemort. And how dearly had he paid for it.

He sent the message through a house elf, who would get it to Dumbledore within seconds. The whole staff had been warned: Hogwarts would be attacked anytime. A few hours time was all he had before the actual strike. This was the one day in which his loyalty would lay bare in the open, he knew it. Voldemort did too, the bastard. after today, he would have to officially leave the Death Eaters, for they would know he was not one of them.

He left the castle through his very own secret passage and strode to the Forbidden Forest.

_Showtime._

Hermione Granger woke up feeling a sense of peace she had missed for long. She stared at the ceiling, which had golden clouds in a glorious sky and decided this was the day she was going to work hard in getting over her grieve.

The pain was still there, but she had to stop whining and do something about it. Start making plans, strategies, and fight back. She didn't want to be hiding forever.

She was a logical person, she knew she would eventually get out of Hogwarts one day.

She was a Muggleborn, and best friend of Harry Potter.

She was a target; the attack to her parents hadn't been for free.

Even if she could back down, she wouldn't. She had never had friends before she became one-third of the famous Trio. They had been through too much together, saved each other's lives more than once. She couldn't turn her back to that. And she was a Gryffindor, after all. "_Their courage, nerve and chivalry set Gryffindors apart._" The hat sang when she was sorted. Hermione didn't foresee the implications of that then, she only thought it would be cool to have McGonagall as her Head of House. But now, she was proud of being a Gryffindor.

She wouldn't grieve anymore. Crying wouldn't do her anything. It was time to move on in life. It was time to do something about her situation, analyse, plan, and _act_. She was good at that. Her parents wouldn't want her wandering like a zombie. They would like her to be happy. And they would like her to do what was right.

She walked resolutely to her dorm's bathroom, singing.

'_These woods are so dark,_' Arien thought, caressing a huge sycamore tree. There was a magical quality to the woods that fascinated her. She got the glimpse of a unicorn running – it had been so fast, a human wouldn't have noticed. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

The trees were reluctant to let her in. It was as if they resented company of anything, even hers. She worked hard on making herself accepted. She used all the patience she got, breathing slowly and sending friendly waves of energy around. After a good ten minutes, they were less hostile.

And then something hit her. A threat. The animals of the forest run away, with little care and great hurry. Something was approaching quickly from Northeast. Arien climbed the sycamore and searched for her wand, grasping it tightly.

In that moment she saw them – still distant – a group of twenty, walking as fast as humans could. They were all dressed alike, black everything- robes, cloaks, hoods and masks. Arien scanned the trees around her, calculating the probable escape routes.

Curses flew from all directions, and the wizards were falling dead on the ground. Very few were stunned, most were killed.

"_Adava Kedavra!"_

"_Adava Kedavra!"_

"_Stupefy!"_

"_Adava Kedavra!"_

The struggle was fierce but brief. Shortly there was only one man in black still standing up- Snape.

"That was close, Albus."

"Indeed it was, my friend, indeed it was. Who was here today?" the elderly wizard replied.

"Nobody really important. I think Voldemort didn't want to risk them with a very likely traitor."

"Oh, yes. That reminds me of something... Arien, could you please come down? It's safe now."

The elfling gasped in her canopy hiding place and took a deep breath, before obliging. She landed on the ground making absolutely no noise, although she was up in a very tall tree.

"What were you doing here, child?" he said, his voice suddenly tired.

"I was just strolling..."

"because we all know the Forbiden forest is just the place for morning jogging," Snape sneered.

"The woods were calling." She replied calmly. Then, she went to Dumbledore so he would be the only one to listen. "you know I would come here sooner or later. I needed to, Albus."

"The calling of the woods! What are you, some godforsaken Celtic priestess?" Snape hissed.

"It's okay, Severus. The girl had enough for today." The headmaster said in a sad tone. "Next time, you'll call me before, won't you?"

"Alright."

"Let's go back inside. We have plenty to talk," Albus said. The Aurors went to carry – magically- the what living prisoners they had back to the castle.

"I fail to see what's so fun about this situation, Dumbledore!" Snape cried. In some dark place of his mind, he had the conviction he had lost his composure far too many times that day, but he didn't care. He had no class till after lunch, and he was anxious to settle things with

"But I am not being funny at all. What will be your situation, Severus?"

Dumbledore sat down on his armchair, Snape took the seat before him.

"He will know I've betrayed him. He was suspicious, but now he is sure. There's no way I could have been the only survivor. It's just impossible."

"But you _could have_ died, Severus..."Dumbledore said, his old twinkling back in his eyes.

"What's your plan this time, Dumbledore?"

"What if you had, indeed, died this morning? What if I had killed you for your betrayal?"

"There is polyjuice."

"Think about it, Severus. You have done all you could. We are very thankful. But now that your disguise have been blown up, there's no use for you to go back there. Actually, you'd be killed. And I promised you that I wouldn't let that happen."

"Yes, Dumbledore. But without me getting information from inside, the war is going to be even worse than it already is. We won't know what their plan is till they strike."

"That's a given, yes. But you cannot go back, Severus. It's over, and you know it."

"I_ could_ use polyjuice to get inside again..."

"They would see it in no time. It's a scheme they have tried already. I don't want you to come to harm, old friend. If there was a chance, I'd have to say '_go for it'_ even if I didn't like it. But there's no way."

Dumbledore's eyes were full of concern and acceptance, just like that other night so many years ago. had it really been so long? When Snape's whole world had been upside down, and he had come to him expecting nothing but a life-sentence in Azkaban or worse. But he was accepted back. He had been given a chance. And he tried hard to make up to him, to all of them – _in his own way_.

"It's going to get worse, Albus. It's going to be hellish."

"And we'll be ready. I need you alive, Snape. I need someone to teach and protect these children. They are going to leave, at some point. They are going to leave this sanctuary and enter straight into a battlefield, and I want them to stand a chance." The headmaster was very serious, now.

"What will I do, then?"

"Seems that you'll be our new professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Severus. I'll be busy most the time with the order of Phoenix, in any case. By the way, we have to think of another name for you. And with this..." With a wink, the headmaster took a time-turner out of his pocket "you'll be able to '_arrive_' at England a little before '_Snape_' dies. Then you'll just come to Hogwarts invited by Professor McGonagall, to fill in the position."

At the Common Room, the Tenacious Trio were discussing the newest attack on Howarts school of wizardry and witchcraft. The Death Eater's attempt to break into the school was highly confidential and therefore, as Dumbledore had once pointed out, the whole school knew about it.

"I can't believe I missed that!" said Hermione.

"Can you guys speak a little lower? We don't need all Gryffindors to know that!" whispered Ginny. She was seated next to Hermione, across Harry. Colin has started shooting weird glances at them, obviously curious. And in that particular guy, curiosity is something really, really dangerous. "_Collin Creevey_." She pointed.

"She has a point," said Hermione.

"Bugger, Mione, all Gryffindors already know!" Ron protested, just out of habit. The brunette's scalding look had the same nature.

The trio looked at the High Table, where their professors were. Well, most of them. Hagrid went in a 'secret mission' with Madam Maxime, came back at the beginning of term and then left again. They knew he was trying to make the giants not turn to Voldemort's side. Dumbledore was teaching them Defense Against the Dark Arts personally that year. Snape was not at the table either, but he didn't have all meals in the great hall, anyway. The Aurors were nowhere to be seen.

"They say Snape was killed," whispered Harry.

"The Grey Lady said Arien had seen it," Ron added. Ginny released a small cry of outrage. The four of them looked up to that weird stranger who had come from literally another planet and killed over twenty death eaters without magic. Acting out of impulse, Ginny beckoned Arien to the Gryffindor table, completely ignoring Ron's muffled protestations.

"Hello guys," she said, standing behind Ginny and leisurely running her hand through the other redheaded girl's hair. Ginny was almost- almost- getting used to the elfling's fascination with hair, and so did not squirm too much.

"Hello Arien. How are you doing?" asked Hermione, as if they were not just talking about her.

"I am well, I think." The elf frowned a little. "Is this about the attack still? Dumbledore said we have nothing to worry about now, that the danger has passed."

The four of them exchanged glances.

"Come on!" she said, laughing. "If we cannot trust Dumbledore, whom will we trust?"

"Okay." Harry said. "Is it true Snape was killed?"

"Whomever told you that?"

"That's what the portraits are saying."

"I see," Arien replied, and turned away to return to her own table. "I have to go now. Don't worry too much about this, I think the Headmaster has everything in control now."

**Easter 1995.**

"Ouch!"

Sarah had thrown Ginny hard on the ground.

"That's it, Sarah. Thanks," Arien said with a smile. "You see, it doesn't matter how big or strong your opponent is. If you know what you're doing, he'll be damned either way."

"Thank you so much," Ginny hissed ill-naturedly. Her back was hurting like hell. And it did nothing to improve her mood that she had been hit by a girl one head shorter and a good deal lighter.

"I do appreciate your effort, Ginny. And that leads us to some other thing..." She scanned the little crowd before her. For a month now, she had trained them what hand-to-hand combat she could remember still. She hadn't had practice or experience enough to be the best of knights, but she could stand her ground, and that was the idea. But soon there would be nothing left to teach, just endless practice.

Unless Dumbledore could find a real teacher.

Fred and George were downright friendly, and they even got serious when it was time to practice. Ginny was fighting like there was no tomorrow, and so was Harry. Ron was still guarded. Hermione, for one, seemed only resigned, although she tried hard to keep up with the others. Warming up, running, and practice with bare hands- they were not ready for weapons yet.

"Falling." She said, solemnly. "There's a technique for that. try to do just like this," she said, leaning forward slowly. She supported her weight on the back of her hand, then on her wrist, arm and shoulder, through a diagonal imaginary line on her back and landed on a half-kneeled fighting position. "From here, you can either stand up, or fight kneeled if needs be. Shall we try this? Go on rolling till the wall, and on the way back, change the side?" Arien allowed a little insecurity show at the end of the sentence. She felt awkward on commanding older wizards, or anyone at all –she'd always been independent, and found this whole team-work talk very complicated.

They went rolling to the wall and back. Then she showed then how to fall leaning backwards, and repeated the process.

"All right. Now, get a pair and let's practice the blocking techniques, all right. Hmm... no, Fred, come here, stay with Harry..." She asked his permission with her eyes. "And Ron with Sarah... George and Carl...Ginny and Hermione... all right, alter attacking and blocking between you. Start now."

'_This is ridiculous. They're all halfway to be powerful wizards, and here I am, telling them to roll on their backs and blocks, grip and kick... I must be out of my mind... they actually try so hard_.' she chuckled quietly. Harry gripped Fred's wrist, pulling it behind his back – the tall redheaded boy cried to stop now. It was the time in which he should let go and switch places.

"Go on, Harry. Fred, try to break loose." A sly, wicked grin beamed in her face as the boys' surprise. They went on, of course, with lots of cursing. She loved to make them go further, further than even they thought possible. And they were improving. In three months or so they'd be ready to start practicing with blades. She felt inadequate, and very small, but still... it was so much fun!

And it was not as if they didn't make it up to her when they came to teach her wizard duelling at night. Not at all. Her legs were still aching from the '_tantalegro_" Hermione had cast on her last week. Maybe she should put her to fight with George... it was definitely a possibility.

****

"Ginny, you're not concentrating." Came the soft voice before her.

"Sorry. It's just that I had a bad day." she sighed.

"Has the new professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts kicked your –what's the words Ron uses?-"

"Please! Don't go around repeating the words Ron uses. Mom would have a heart attack if she heard you. And she'd probably wash your mouth with soap bar."

"Ught."

"Exactly."

"Was he hard on you today?" she smiled slyly. The girl was definitely a child – very much like Fred and George. Just that she didn't play practical jokes on people.

"You know something we don't, do you?"

"Absolutely" that could meant either yes or no.

' _Just let it pass, I'm not in the mood today.'_

"No, Mr. Leal was just nice. We had a very pleasant class about vampires."

"Wasn't that a third year subject?"

"It's a long story. We had only two decent professors, Professor Lupin and Professor Moody... but Moody was an impostor... geez, the second decent teacher we ever had was an impostor." She laughed, a lifeless laugh. "So we have a lot to catch up."

"Oh." Was the only response.

Ginny lowered her wand. They'd been duelling for nearly two hours, she was tired. Not just because of the physical excercise, but because she felt empty.

"You look terrible. Maybe you should go to bed?" Arien suggested.

"It's just that... oh, never mind, you're so young..."

"I'm very young, but I am still older than you, Ginny."

"Oh... well, I keep forgetting that."

"It's okay... that's the idea, isn't it?"

"Have you ever..."

"Been in love?" Arien completed quietly, "like you are with Harry?"

"How do you know?"

"It's the way you look at him"

"Life is a bitch." She whispered.

"Don't let Molly listen to that," Arien stated solemnly. Both chuckled.

"I've been in love with him before I even liked guys."

"But he doesn't return your feelings, right?"

"No."

"There are other boys in the world, you know?"

"But they're not Harry Potter. They're not him."

"Let's make this a war strategy matter. Do you think this is a fortress you could possibly conquer? Be honest."

"Honest? ... No. This one, I couldn't."

"Then you know what to do."

"Stay at the gate till I starve?"

"Go back to your base, strengthen your army, and choose a fortress you could take down."

"Easier said than done."

"Who said life is easy? But you know, living among humans made me think like them in a way. And the good thing about the humans is that, when they fall, they stand up, clean the dust, and try it again. Elves, for all I heard mom say, would more likely grieve to death."

"Grieve to death?

"Haven't I told you? Elves will not die of illness, they don't age, they don't get sick. They're _the bloody perfection_ incarnated. They only die when they're killed, or when their hearts are broken. Some of them can just grieve for a while, mourning as they feel like, and then go back to life. But plenty die of a broken heart."

"I feel like that."

"But you won't. You're human, Ginny. Humans are resilient. They get over it. Some of these days, you'll wake up and realize it's gone. And then you'll be available again."

"Do you think you could die like that? Of sadness, I mean." Ginny said after a moment's silence.

"I like to think I've inherited the human's strength in this particular field. After all, I've survived my family's death, and it hurt a lot. Still does, actually."

"You survived that. Harry survived losing his parents either, and living with those horrible relatives of his... and here I am, crying because a guy doesn't fancy me. How low could I sink?"

"Hey! We're teenagers, right? We have the right of overreact. You're a really special person, Virginia. Now go back to bed. We get up at four."

"I was at the bottom, and you just remind me of the one thing that could make me worse. Thank you _so very much_..."

.::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::('')::.

A.N:

Snape's new name is Mr. Leal. It's the Portuguese word for trustworthy, faithful, reliable, loyal.

Ginny is a bit spicy in this chapters. But she's growing up, and therefore getting more mature. I presume that the practice of sports helps one on being more self-assured, confident. And remember Ron said that Ginny was really outspoken (you couldn't make her shut up); getting shy only when Harry was around...


	6. Chapter 5: Falling from Grace

**Chapter 5: Falling from grace**

"_I'm going deeper underground_

_there's too much panic in this town" Deeper Underground, ???_

**One year later... April 1996**

"Everything hurts..." moaned Hermione, limping, in her way to the Great Hall.

"Please don't start that again." Said Ginny, in a rather foul temper. It was _That Time Of the Month_, and she had not much patience _Those Days_.

"Do you think we should stop that?" said Hermione, sounding rather dreamy.

Ginny laughed. Hermione was not, under any circumstances, a sporty type. Her element was research and experimentation, not physical exercise- also proved by her everlasting lack of enthusiasm towards quidditch. However, the older lass was blossoming under the daily practice. And Ron, for one, was rather pleased with it. He even stopped complaining about the whole thing after Ginny, very slyly, pointed out that his girlfriend's body was developing in a very interesting way. Ron went crimson, of course, but grinned wickedly.

"You could stop, of course, but Ron would be extremely disappointed..." the redheaded left the meaning hanging in the air, while enjoyed watching the ever-so-self-confident Hermione Granger blushing. After all that time, she still blushed. Ginny thought it was rather cute. "And I enjoy the looks I get from the lads a lot, so I'm continuing, thank you very much." She stated, with another devilish grin.

"Is there another thing you think about?" Hermione protested.

"Well, there's survival, fighting evil and saving the world, and all that, of course. But that comes second" she said, in mocked vanity. Hermione laughed hard.

"And I don't want my brothers to worry about me when I'm out" Ginny said, suddenly serious. Ron and herself were the only members of the family not in the army now – but they were still studying. Even Percy, The Pompous, joined the war effort- as a strategist. To say he was a perfectionist was an understatement, like "Fudge is a bloody fool".

The girls reached the table and joined Harry and Ron. Truth to his word, Harry had made an effort to be good friends with Ginny, and their training together every day had certainly developed camaraderie. But Harry never looked at Ginny as anything else than a friend: he got over Cho, and was currently dating a sixth year Hufflepuff, Susan Bones. Ginny was too busy savouring the attention she was receiving from the other males in Hogwarts to pick a serious date. She was quite careful with who she give her heart to. She wasn't skinny like her brothers, but curvy like her mom, and she developed the habit of walking around the school without her robes as much as she could. She was having fun flirting, and though Ron didn't find it funny, but what could he do?

"Trust girls to jabber when the world is falling down under our feet." Said Ron.

"Now what, Ron?" asked Ginny, in an iron-cutting tone. Her very little patience was flying through the window.

"Didn't you know? Gringots was broken last night."

"You mean, _again_?" Hermione asked. "Gringots was broken into in our first year, remember? Quirrel invaded it trying to steal the Philosopher's stone."

"It was the Bank in Sydney last night. Seems they needed some cash, as all the confirmed Death eaters lost their fortunes to the governments," informed Harry. He looked rather tired.

"You look awful, dear." Said Ginny, carelessly.

"Thank you." He answered heartlessly.

"Anytime." She shot back, scanning the room. "How did you know about it? We are not receiving any owls anymore..."

"Dumbledore." The guys said at the same time. They were getting good at the twin's game. "We spoke to him as you were in the shower." Harry said.

"You girls take forever to get ready..." muttered Ron.

"Always the gentleman." Ginny replied, helping herself with some sandwiches and orange juice.

"What's the matter with you today?"

Ginny shot her brother a look. Sometimes he was just SO dense...

''

**June 15th 1996.**

Snape inhaled deeply. Being the nice teacher was definitely not his favourite role- even when it was in a position he had sought for years, but it was the best disguise possible. He was officially dead, and what student, in his right mind, would believe that nice, supportive, patient Professor Alejandro Leal and the slimy git, cruel and ruthless Potion Master were one and the same?

Of course, because of the whole Professor Moody incident, he had to be extra-careful when taking the polyjuice. He even spent plenty of time in his private chambers to make a stronger potion, which effects would last longer. Nobody knew about it, except Dumbledore, McGonagall and himself.

That was the reason why he was taking deep breaths and counting till fifty while he was teaching the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs how to resist the Imperius curse. Death Eaters liked to put wizards under that curse in order to confuse the Aurors. Make the innocents do their dirty work, be punished, while they stay in the shadows pulling the strings.

"Miss Greenfield, please." His voice betrayed anything but concern. If he could, he would grace the lass with his coldest sneer. "It's inside of your mind. Try to hold on yourself and resist. I am sure you can make it."

The blonde before him nodded determinedly, and positioned herself for another go. He cast the curse again and watched as she tried to resist. There _was_ a progress, no mistake there.

Every student of the class was submitted to the curse until they could reject the orders. This lot was keen, apt and smart- and had been training since the beginning. If the oldest fall, they might stand a chance.

He dismissed the class at the proper time, and went to his desk, scrutinizing the assignments before him. They had so little time... so little time... they had to be trained against vampires, werewolves, dementors, acromantulas and giants- all the giants Hagrid couldn't convince coming to the side of light. And against other wizards, wizards with black hearts and years of experience in the arts of duelling and ...

_Merlin and the Four Founders help us._

"Professor?" one of his students had stood behind, that little sphinx he had the unfortunate displeasure of knowing as Arien. '_Lilith take her to...'_

"Yes?" he answered in his best-sugared tone.

She grinned. "We're not going out, are we?" she asked, staring at his now light-brown eyes.

"It's not safe to go out, _child_." Stressing the child, Snape reinforced the distance between them .

"And it's not safe to receive owls either?"

"Do you have anyone to get owls from?"

"Yes. I'd like to know of the Weasleys."

"They are all engaged in the war, child. That's what I've heard from Dumbledore, at least."

"And how's it? The war, I mean."

'_Bloody Circe. Curiosity, thy name is Arien.'_

"Bad, child. The war is bad." She sat on the chair before him, transfiguring it in a larger one, so she could be at eye-level. Then she retrieved her wand from her pockets and performed locking and silencing spells in the defence against the dark arts classroom.

"The twins taught me that." A moment of silence, one reckoning the other. "How bad?"

"Why your Bogart turned into an elf?"

She shivered. "I asked first."

"But I'm not saying anything till you answer." She bit her lower lip. He knew he hit a score.

"That's my mother's kin."

"The thing you're most afraid of in the world is your _kin_?"

"You'd too, if you knew them. They are very powerful. They have their own kind of magic."

"And where is that powerful people? We could use some help."

"They're not around, sir. And they wouldn't give a damn. How's the war?"

''

If one could be bored, Ginny was. No owls from home, everyone going hysterical from being locked at school waiting for the strike of the Death eaters, and- guess what -left aside like the third wheel- or fourth, or fifth, who cares! – Because Mione and Ron were snogging in some private empty classroom, and Harry was off to see that girlfriend of his.

It's not that she was _jealous_, for pity's sake. She had enjoyed herself quite thoroughly after being- _ught!_ - dumped (it was very careful, but it was still rejection). She had dated several guys, flirted with many others, and to hell with what people thought of it. She was fifteen after all, and with the perspective of being killed right after graduation...

She was most definitely _NOT jealous_ of Harry. He was free, after all, and a good guy- it would have been easier if he wasn't perhaps. She could be free to loathe his immortal soul forever and ever, and get on with it. But no. He had to be Harry _bloody_ Potter, the gentleman, the perfect, the wonderful Harry Potter and take that out of her. So he was dating Susan Boots.

But damn, a Hufflepuff! '_Couldn't you just shoot me, Harry?_'

She was still wandering around the castle, aimlessly, when she realised her stair was changing. "Bloody hell. What else could happen to me?"

The stairs could take her to the dungeons, of course. _A Weasley, alone, in the dungeons._ She quickly left in search of another stair that let her back to safe grounds.

"Lost, Weasley?" '_Oh, damn_.' She turned slowly, making sure she grabbed her wand in the process. '_Reflexes_'. She would need that now.

"The stairs changed whilst I was going to the fifth floor." She replied calmly. Malfoy was leaning against the wall, reckoning her from his half-closed eyelids and, for once, his goonies were nowhere to be seen. Her wand was already in position.

"Over there." He waved to his left, and turned his back to her.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, as you ask so kindly, yes you are excused. Now move. This is _Slytherin zone_." He said all that as if he was only getting rid of her, and he was, after all, Draco Malfoy. Was it possible that being locked at school had softened him? Or was it the fear of his father being defeated, or the fear of being killed with all others when the Death Eaters eventually invaded the school, or was it a trap?

_Most likely the last._

She walked in the opposite direction. If she could locate Snape's classroom, she would be able to go back to her upper floors. The problem is, the halls were dark and confusing, and after twenty minutes, she was still trying to figure a way of getting the hell out of there. The dungeons were a part of the castle she did not know well- she never felt like knowing, anyway. Not with all the Slytherins that lived down there.

"Point me." She was somewhere in the south of the castle. If she could go northeast, she would be under the main entrance...

"What are you doing here?!" oh, boy, just how lucky could she be?

"Isn't that a little obvious?" she shot.

"No, Ms. Weasley, it is not. There's nothing obvious about a G_ryffindor, alone_, wandering in the _dungeons_." He replied sarcastically. Oh, how she hated to look like a fool. And there it was, she was looking every inch a fool.

"I'm trying to get out of here, in case you failed to see." He shuddered. Apparently he didn't take the word 'failed' lightly.

"I told you in no uncertain terms how to leave."

She shot him a look. He stood his ground, annoyed. Then he walked to her and grabbed her arm. Her other arm was already flying to twist his pulse, her wand forgotten, when she heard him:

"Follow me." The phrase went out hissed, as if it was difficult, and she was dragged to the west. When they reached the second floor, he let go of her and waved to the hall. "Go forth and you'll reach the back entrance of the hospital wing. Try to act sensibly next time and not to wander in the dungeons. The knight in shinning armour is a role that does _NOT_ suits me at all. Good afternoon." And with that, he left, and she was alone in the corridor, completely confused.

"What the hell???"

''

Snape looked at his pupil for some moments, trying to decide what to tell. But then, as she would probably know it either way, he decided not to bother with subtleties.

"Spreading its ugly tentacles around the world. We don't have such a thing since Grindewald, in 1945. The muggles, then, thought it was about some lunatic in Germany. Of course he was just a minion of Grindewald, actually, when his master was defeated by Dumbledore, he fell."

"Is there a minion threatening the muggles now?"

"They don't need to threaten, child. They just go and kill. The muggles' government is convinced that this is a new biological weapon of some sort, even when they can't find any trace of viruses or anything. They will very likely attack the first one they can blame about, and then they'll be involved in a war of their own. Voldemort, of course "– there was no use in pretending to be scared of his name- "sees it as a good way of hiding, creating havoc and---"

"Covering the tracks, isn't it?"

"Quite much it. And there's the racial part of the problem as well..." she shivered then, and looked down. "You're not comfortable with blood purity, are you?" the question was merely rhetorical.

"_NO_. In my... place... we were mistreated for it. I hate it." Then, lower, "I hate to be looked down at."

He decided to store that information for later "He has his personal issues, of course. But also, it's so easy to drive people into that current of thought. You see miss Hermione Granger? She's muggle-born, and she's one of the most brilliant witches Hogwarts' ever seen... of course, I'd like you not to keep it between us."

"I will, even if there's no need for it..." she asked, with the ghost of a smile.

"Anyway," he didn't want to discuss that, "the main reason is to create a ... sort of... ideology, however sick, for others to follow..."

"Bewitch the mind..." she whispered.

"In a way, yes. Brainwash, have you ever heard of it?" she nodded. "And also, he's after the wealthy and power of the hybrid families. That is his ultimate goal."

"Yes, you are right. It's sick."

Snape thought it hadn't hurt, in the end, talking with her. As soon as the conversation left the personal field, he had even enjoyed it.

Now that he didn't have to live as a spy, he could treat Slytherins as he wanted. Maybe there was time – they were locked, without communication with the outside world, stuck with some of the greatest wizards and witches of this age. And they were so young yet; if he could undo the brainwash... it was worth a try.

''

"**HE WHAT**?!?!??!?!"

"Ron, could you scream a little louder? I don't think Malfoy heard you down at the dungeons." Ginny replied icily. If Ron had a drop of restraint, which he momentarily didn't, he would have known that pissing Virginia Elizabeth Weasley in one of Those Days wasn't the wisest idea. But he was rather pissed off himself, and didn't read the clear signs of danger: she was utterly still, she had her hands on her hips, she had that I'm-gonna-kill-you-SLOWLY look in her eyes and she was – the greatest red alarm signal- talking in a very quiet, very silky voice. Hermione tried to call his attention to that, but Ronald Thomas Weasley was seeing red and oblivious to anything, and anyone else than his little sister.

"Don't you go sarcastic at me, young lady." He said in a voice that was quite dangerous as well. They were arguing in the middle of the Common Room, not really caring for how embarrassed the other Gryffindors were. "What did he want with you?"

"He wanted what every other boy his age wanted, Ronny, dear." Several surprised gasps were heard in the room "What the hell do you think? That I had a nice little chat with him? Hey Malfoy, by the way, would you like to snog me senseless in some empty classroom? Get a grip, Ron! I got lost, he took me the hell out of there. Don't know why he did it and if I'm lucky I'll never find out. Now get the hell out of my way!"

"Virginia Weasley" he said, very slowly, "I don't want you anywhere near Draco Malfoy. Is that understood?"

"Ronald Weasley" she said in the exact same tone "First, I don't want myself anywhere near Draco Malfoy; and second, but not least important, I'm not a little girl anymore, even when you try to fool yourself into believing so, and when I want to do something, I'll do it, regardless to whatever you may have to say in the matter, just because I CAN! I'll take my own decisions about who I date, what I do, think and dress, and if you don't like it you can go to hell. Is that UNDERSTOOD?" and with that she left to her quarters, leaving a very stunned Hermione and Harry, and a very royally pissed off Ron behind.

''

Christmas eve, 1996, Hogwarts 

The snow covered the landscape, as if somehow a faerie tale had come to life, sparklingly white and quiet. Eerily quiet. Nobody would like to say out loud that Hogwarts had lost much of its spirit, its laughter and carelessness, drowning in its solemnity, a shell devoid of soul of what it had been not long ago. Every now and then one Head of House would walk sternly towards a specific student to take them to his office and say their parents were dead.

That was why she was taking the risk, of course. Oh, she'd told herself she was being folly and all, but was it something she could do about it? No. If Pomfrey hadn't told her she was gloriously healthy and clean, in perfect sanity, she would cry out loud that she'd been taken under a spell. It could still be a spell, however, wandless magic. The magic of a certain pair of silver eyes.

No one could have been ever crueler about the matter than herself. Many times at night she told herself she was still hurt about Harry and was doing this just to piss him royally- but who was she fooling? Harry would only worry about her kamikaze relationship, not about her having one at all. It would more likely be he would be relieved.

And when she sneaked to the less-known hidden corners of the castle, she wasn't thinking about Harry. In fact, she utterly forgot about there being a Harry Potter at all. And that, at first, was the most fascinating thing about Draco Malfoy- he could make her _forget_. For real. Not forgetting for half an hour, or a night, but truly not mind, not care, not remember about her first love at all. When they were together, the world stopped being.

And all thoughts ceased when a strong arm pulled her inside the room. They locked the door eagerly and put every possible locking and silencing spell in the classroom.

"Though day, Gin?" he asked, with the most utterly devilish grin possible. His hands were already resting on her hips, her lifeline for almost six months now.

"If only you knew" she breathed, holding him closer. The whole pretence drew all her strength: being around him, not showing how much he affected her, how much she wanted to run to him and hold him in front of everyone, to show she was proud- _heavens forbid it _- of him, of being with him. Not possible, unfortunately. Both houses would unite in the first time in a thousand years.

_To kill them both._

"Hey, hey, what could possibly piss off my little tigress?" he asked in mocked bewilderment. It was his way of doing this, of course. Draco Malfoy was NOT honey-sweet. He was addictive. Intoxicating.

"Shut up and kiss me" she replied, causing him to laugh out.

"A bit carried away, now aren't we?" he teased with one eyebrow raised high. He had beautiful eyebrows. And eyes. And oh, let's not even begin to think on his lips... too late.

When had it started? What had happened? She couldn't figure what had been the beginning for her dear life, that exact moment in which they had given in and accepted that they had to meet or else they wouldn't function. They had started meeting in the most inappropriate places and times, at first she thought he had set it up. Ron had infuriated her above bearable levels telling her not to 'stick with the ferret prat'. She told him she was 'not sticking with anyone'. Then, just to prove that she could, she began actually opening room for talking- and it had been his turn to feel wary, and to think she was up to something. They would come to the library at the most ungodly hours, and stare at each other. Then came the stage in which they touched each other when they crossed paths – lightly, unsuspiciously, fearing being discovered. And to hell if the whole forbidden part hadn't turned her on. One day she was struck when he moved his head to the side, and walked out of the library. She followed. Harry was off with Susan, Ron was training wizarding duel with Arien, and Hermione was catching up Arithmancy up in her dorm. He walked to an empty classroom, she went after him- Ginny'd been training for a year and she was just that damn good. And she was also intrigued. And when she entered the room, he being alone, casting some fire in the hearth startled her and they began talking, and soon they began kissing.

"You have no idea how much I wanted this..." she moaned, breaking the kiss.

"I think I do" he answered, in his own supercilious way. Between them, it was a teasing, and she knew it. And he knew that she knew it.

"How have things been at the Serpents Den?"

"Havoc." He replied simply, walking away and falling graciously in a chair. from all the impossible things, who could have thought of this? It was insane. This lad's father had nearly gotten her worse than killed, and here she was, kissing him senseless. "Even worse than in the other's quarters, I guess. They at least are under threat from under one of the sides..." merely a whisper, now.

"Hey..." she soothed, running her finger through his hair. God knew she wouldn't get tired of that. "I'm here. I'll always be around."

"Things will get pretty bad, Gin. The light side won't trust me, and the dark side will hunt me like a deer."

"We'll figure something. We've got some time still.".

''

"Harry, you're letting your guard down." Arien said, striding forth and repeating the movement. "See? Your left side is completely vulnerable like this. Come, try again."

It's been one year and a half and they were quickly approaching the third belt. Soon she'd have nothing to teach them. And then what? And then Harry, Ron and Hermione would leave Hogwarts to some Auror Training Centre; she had heard them discussing it endlessly in the library. They whispered, but she could hear them all the same. And Ginny? What would Ginny do? Soon Malfoy would be out as well, hunted by both the sides of the war. Would he give in? Would he join Voldemort? Would he join the Aurors? Would he just run and hide?

The students had grown in number. Dumbledore had asked her to take some other children – release some tension, he said. That was not far from truth. With the school under martial law, it was just too easy to loose sanity. Inter-house rivalry had grown to murderous mutiny. There were two classes now, as some of the Slytherins had joined them.

"They are here because the Headmaster asked me to. Step out of the line, _any of you_, and you're _out_. You won't use my art to kill one another." She had said when the first Slytherins entered the training room, months ago. She'd been frightened to death that they'd start fighting for real in her dojo.

No wonder they had volunteered to take lessons, Slytherin is the house of cunning, and they were sly enough to understand they would need whatever they could get to protect themselves – from their mates.

"You're training the blasted Death Eaters, Arien!" Ron yelled at her after the lesson. Give Hermione the credit, he was starting to control himself a bit.

"I'm under orders of the headmaster, Ron, _and I'll see them done_." Was the reply.

The signal echoed though every room of the castle. The alarm signal. The one that said '_we're being attacked, everybody run to their positions_.'

The wannabe knights stopped dead on their spots and then began running. Fifth years and up were due to help teachers if requested- which meant, if there were too many enemies for them to deal on their own. The others were to go to hiding places were god only could spot them. Arien got her bag and grabbed her wand, praying that she had learnt enough in case she might need it. At the door, students parted ways, olders going to the main hall and youngers going to the haven.

"Good luck, guys!" the half-elven yelled, as her friends went out of sight.

The younger students gathered in the secret room –slipping down through a hole at McGonagall's office study desk. It was cold, and dark, and no one dared to conjure a fire to warm up for fear of the magic attracting the death eaters. So they waited, in silence, hugging each other, pretending they were comforting others- when the truth was that they needed comfort themselves. It was nine o'clock in the evening when the attack begun.

''

Harry, Hermione and Ron went to the second line of fire. The first were composed by the teachers and the seventh years, with the fifth years behind. Ginny was standing right behind her brother, throwing worried glances toward a certain silver-blond slytherin.

They somehow broke the wards. As soon as the enemy was visible, the battle of curses begun. The damned green light of Avada was often seen, but Flitwick was levitating a piece of marble as a shield. The killing curse had to make straight contact with the target to work. (1)

They could not, obviously, attack efficiently like that. Their own curses were blocked by the marble shield, which, by the way, was quickly showing signs of breaking.

"Drop it, Flitwick. We need to attack." Dumbledore said. He was shining, in a way. It was a different wizard standing at the main gate, yet the same. Though the order was absolutely insane, it made all the sense of the world.

The marble shield fell with a noise. And the light side took advantage of the fist precious seconds to take most of the whole first line of death eaters down. A group of green flashes of light illuminated the patio for a blink, and they fell instantly dead.

And then they shot back.

Most of the seventh years fell when they did, their bodies shielding the younger students behind them.

And the sixth years stood ahead, taking the place of those who had fallen – Harry had the impression he'd seen Katie fallen on the ground, but he couldn't pay attention to that now, while he was wildly casting killing curses. He moved forth, feeling Hermione and Ron walking boldly on his side. But they all were, teachers and students, and the figures in black were moving forth as well. More and more people fell as they approached, as none of the sides even bothered using anything but The Unforgivable.

Suddenly he felt thrown back, and sick, and dizzy. While he struggled to gather his strength he realised he'd been hit – but he was alive. He was The Boy Who Lived, Again. Ron turned back to help him up.

"We don't have time for a nap, pal." He said, in a lame attempt of a joke, but Harry got the not-so-slight sign of fear in his eyes, and felt blessed.

"I'll keep that in mind, Ron." He said. But it was not what he wanted to. What he truly wanted to say – even if Ron already knew of it- was, 'dude, you're like a brother to me'.

"Watch out!" the scream was followed by a body, Hermione's body, forcing them down again. The light flash passed right above them and through two fifth years, hitting the wall of the castle.

"That was close." Said Ron, standing up again.

When they looked around, there was no more death eaters to kill. The attack had been frantic, massive, and fast. Apparently they've underestimated those young adults. Madam Pomfrey opened the door behind them and start – uselessly – trying to find someone who could use some aid. They were all dead, and the only ones who needed help was a fifth year slytherin who'd broke her arm while dodging and a fifth year Ravenclaw who slip on a rock and cut her chin.

"My friends!" echoed the voice of Dumbledore "I must ask you to go render your fellows inside the castle and tell them to go to the main hall. All shall sleep there tonight, under the care of our deputy headmistress. Myself and the other teachers will patrol the surroundings of the castle and make sure there's nobody else hidden around."

His voice was full of sorrow, but also authority. All students moved as one towards the hidden haven, though some took longer, trying to search for their friends – in the group, or in the ground.

And then Harry saw it. The three of them, together.

_Neville, Seamus and Dean._

Oh, shit.

"What are you looking at, Harry?" Hermione asked. This was one of those very rare times in which Ron was more perceptive than his girlfriend was, as his gaze followed the path of Harry's, as Hermione merely stared at his eyes. Both boys looked at each other, then back at her.

"Nothing, 'Mione."

"I'm still a little dizzy, that's all." Harry said sheepishly, not looking at her eyes. She put her arms around both of them, and pushed them to the castle.

"I don't know about you..." she said, wearily, "but I am in sore need of chocolate."

She'd have to know, of course. But that could be postponed for tonight.

''

"How many, Pomfrey?"

No need to ask how many what. "Sixty-two, Minerva. Flitwick, Sinistra, Trewlaney, Vector, thirty-eight seventh years, twelve fifth years and eight sixth years."

"I'll go back to patrolling. Please keep an eye at them."

"Of course." Again, no need to ask.

''

"Mione?"

They were already in their sleeping bags, gathered in the Great Hall. Very few were asleep, though. No matter what the DADA teacher might say, none of them could find some rest.

And every time Ron closed his eyes he saw his friends dead again. He relived that utterly frightening moment when he thought Harry was dead. When he thought Hermione was dead. When he heard a curse cut in the middle and thought Ginny was dead.

"Say it, Ron. Anything I could do for you?" she answered softly.

"Would you like to marry me?" she stared at him – when he asked her to be his girlfriend, he stammered. Now he was quite confident, he said it straight.

"What?"

"Wouldn't you?"

"No. It's just that... well, it's a bit sudden. "

"Just think about it." He said, kissing her forehead.

And she kept staring at the enchanted ceiling, watching the dark night fade and the first rays of light of the dawn showing. Why was it that she felt so utterly lost? Why did it all had to happen all at once, putting on her shoulders a burden she certainly wasn't ready to bear? Why was it that they couldn't – couldn't, damn it, have a bloody normal adolescence?

And with the first rays of light she heard something, or rather someone, singing softly. She didn't understand a word of it, but the meaning was all to clear. It was a lament for those who died, melodious and solemn, telling to the raising sun the tales of those who were gone.

And the clear morning sky was suddenly a cloudy sky, and rain began pouring down.

''.

**A.N.:**

In case you didn't notice, in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, when Harry and Voldemort were duelling Harry survived because he hid behind a gravestone – the curse hit it instead of him. So I'm treating the curse like some evolved sort of sabergun.

_Grinning_.


	7. Chapter 6: Sense and sensibility

**Chapter 6: Sense and Sensibility.**

"_Never made it as a wise man  
I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealin'  
Tired of livin' like a blind man  
I'm sick inside without a sense of feelin'  
And this is how you remind me  
This is how you remind me  
Of what I really am" How you remind me, Nickelback._

**April of 1997.**

One good thing about the Christmas Eve attack was that some of the most restrained members of staff were now a bit more open on showing their emotions. Not that Minerva McGonagall was hugging students in the halls, but they didn't keep such a sterile distance anymore.

And Hagrid showed his affection so openly some of his protégés had their backs sore from his famous bear hugs. Harry showed at the dojo so hurt in January Arien had dismissed him for a week. He helped with the first belt students, though.

'_there's not much else I could teach them.'_

But for the moment Arien was much more concerned about herself. More specifically, some rumours about her that were running through the students of Hogwarts. With that in mind she came to speak with Dumbledore, hoping he could find a way to help her. The rumours were too close to the truth for her comfort. She was pretty much the same as when she entered the school- except she was less skinny, due to the efforts of the house elves on feeding her and to her daily fighting practice; and now had her haircut chin-level. The auburn mass was curled and wild, kept off her face with the help of tiaras and hair clasps. She was pretty much the same height – an impressive height, five feet and something, as tall as most of the fifth and sixth years. She'd always been the tallest of her class.

She had to wait for a professor who knew the password to take her in. When she finally was led up the gargoyle stairway, the headmaster's office was so loud with conversation she felt her ears buzzing.

"Professor Dumbledore?"

The noise faded. "Oh, hello, Arien. Please come in."

While Arien hasn't changed at all, Dumbledore had aged plenty in the last two years. He still had a twinkle in his eyes, but it seemed clouded most the times. Every now and then, his old usual self would emerge, but when he was at his office the merry eccentric old wizard was replaced by the cunning, analytical wizard, the one who defeated Grindewald and whom Voldemort was afraid of.

She did enter, shyly, dropping her heavy backpack on the ground and taking a seat as he offered.

"What's the matter, Arien?" he asked, joyfully. He always believed in letting the children going on their own, and leading them through their mistakes. As Harry once said, Dumbledore knew what children were up to, and made sure to give them rope enough.

"You know..." the student turned bright crimson, even when it was not a common thing on her. She had far more control over herself than the humans, but no illusion as her level of restraint compared to the elves she would face back home. "People are.. they are getting..._suspicious_. You know, of me. Dumbledore... you know what people are talking about me?"

"No, dear, my mind had been kept elsewhere." He replied, and she sank even deeper into the armchair. A war going on. And she was scared for her integrity '_but hey, I've got to survive this, right?_' she took a deep breath, and prepared herself to defend her plea. It was no use to wear the elven mask of calm and cool serenity, as the man in question was Dumbledore, and he was very, very wise. Her best option was to be totally frank with him.

"For all this years "she began, her voice still smooth ,"I have managed to fit in. I studied the other students, I studied every book about local history, talked to the teachers. I was one of them."

She paused and looked into his eyes, finding them warm and supportive. The same eyes that looked at her in a morning of august, two years ago. Eyes that didn't judge her, but offered her guidance.

"You know how the situation is... tense... all this teenagers locked in. They are afraid, Dumbledore. They startle at everything and at nothing. And now... we know that there had been... previous episodes... of Death Eaters inside the castle. "She eyed him carefully. His eyes were still twinkling, but no longer merrily. It was a calculate twinkle, and it sent shivers down her stomach. "The thing is, Dumbledore, the students may start getting ideas. About me. About me being a Death Eater or something."

"And you think drinking an Ageing Potion will stop them from thinking so, my dear?"

She blinked furiously. Had she been that opbvious? "No, but it would be a start. My behaviour gives no reason to such a belief, however..."

"However?"

"Oh, don't look at me like that! I've never left school, I've never had contact with any Death Eater, except from that morning at the Forbidden Forest, so you don't have to look at me this way." She exploded. Dumbledore chuckled quietly behind his desk.

"I do apologise if I sounded in any way accusing, miss Arien. Do continue."

"It's my... my ears. They're such a damned give-away" she looked at him and felt overwhelmed with dread." I shouldn't have said that, I'm so sorry..."

The paintings on the wall had several different reactions. His own pictures were trying to muffle a laugh, while the previous headmasters and headmistress were looking disapprovingly at her.

"Oh, I haven't heard a thing, what was it that you said, anyway?"

"I've managed to keep them not overly noticed. The da-- ... the hat helps a lot. And they think it's a birth deformity, anyway. But look, it's starting to show off: a girl that _doesn't age_, who has _pointy ears_... I'm extremely surprised they haven't chased me in screams of 'kill the freak' yet."

"Aren't you judging us over old prejudice?"

"Is it really old? I feel the dread, Dumbledore. It's been growing in my mind everyday. They are taking second glances over me already. The suspicion in their eyes is growing. They are trapped, they are scared, and they'll hit the first thing they can. That's the way it is"

"So, you'd like to take the potion."

"Don't you think it prudent?" she didn't like the word wise, not referring to herself. It reminded her too much of the _wise_ Lady of the Woods.

"That's not about what I think, Arien. This is your life, and you're the one who'll deal with the consequences of it. If you think it necessary, I'll give you leave to do it. But I must ask you to start slowly- people would be even more suspicious if you changed from a child to a woman overnight. Take a drop or two every three days, and see me at the end of the week, so we can judge the results."

She knew she was being dismissed. As she reached the door, she turned back with a twinkle of her own:

"Mr. Leal is a most agreeable person, is he not? He's one of my favourite teachers."

"Is he?" the headmaster replied with a twinkle of his own, his eyes nearly disappearing with his broad grin. They both knew she knew about Snape – she was a Ravenclaw, and she had been there– and it was a common source of secret delight to both how Snape was forced to play the role of the nice, caring professor. Most un-Snape-like.

"Yes." A dramatical sigh. "Too bad he doesn't find my company as fascinating as I find his."

"I have to go, Hermione."

"No bloody _way_! What is the problem with you guys?"

It was Friday night, and the Tenacious Trio had the Common room all to themselves. Ginny excused herself to study, and Arien would not have her wizarding training because she was at the hospital wing. Again. Some student must have knocked her out pretty bad.

"Hermione, we both know that as soon as I get out of Hogwarts, there'll be nothing between me and Voldemort. I'd rather be prepared."

"Too right, Harry." Sighed Ron.

"Don't give him ideas, Ron." Hermione spat. "Okay, I do agree with the whole 'I-gotta-be-ready part. Wholeheartedly. But from there to go to the first line of fire, practically begging to be hit..."

"Hermione!" Ron yelled. She didn't give him the slightest attention.

"...that's a bit too much, Harry."

"I'd prefer to be on my feet, Hermione. Look, it's going to happen anyway, so my chances are bigger if I have more people around. Besides, what'd be the effect on people if the -"and he blushed furiously "if I decided to run and hide. I mean, I'm the only one who ever survived. Snuffles is on the run, Snape's dead – and he was a damn powerful wizard, Dumbledore told us several times- what if I disappear? What will people think?"

"I tell you _what _people---"

"_Hermione_!" Ron was aghast. Hermione was usually a very well tempered person. Even when she was in an ill temper, she would use wit, not dirty words- but then now she was using every dirty word he ever said. He definitely had a bad influence over her.

"it would not do the Resistance good. Several good people would flee, and we would get weaker. I have to, Hermione. I do."

She was barely controlling herself. Her chin was trembling and her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"He is right, Hermione." Ron pushed his luck.

"And I want it to be over. As soon as possible."

"_Ron_?"

"And I'm going too, 'Mione."

"That's settled then. We go together." Her voice shaky.

"_Hermione_..."

"No, Harry. I'll hear _nothing_ of it."

"You absolutely can't be serious!" Ginny cried.

"I can and I am." He replied, no trace of smug in his face.

"You'll be killed!"

"I confess the idea crossed my mind, but I'll have to take a position, won't I?"

she was pacing in the room like a furious wild tigress recently locked in a zoo jail – and the tigress didn't like the cell one bit.

"Gin, dear, are you all right?"

"All right? ALL RIGHT? _I'M NO BLOODY RIGHT! I'M FURIOUS!" I'M_---"

"Maybe I should strengthen the silencing spells before we move on? He asked sheepishly. She looked positively fuming. And nodded.

"Now, you may speak. But I'd appreciate if you didn't scream. My ears hurt."

"if you go on with this stupid idea of yours it'll not only be you ears hurting."

"I know." He said quietly.

"why?" she asked even quieter, which startled him somehow.

"Like I said, Ginny, I'll have to pick a side. I'm not a Gryffindor, courage is not my best trait, and I most definitely would like to be chased by _only one_ side of the war, if possible."

"You could hide..." she tried. He chuckled, without any real joy.

"Aye, I could. But when the war is over, the winner side will hunt me down, Ginny, no mistake here. The Light Side will kill me for being a Death Eater-, which I'm not. And the Dark Side will kill me for being a traitor. Voldemort is not a nice fellow with the traitors, Ginny."

She stared at the wall, trying to control her tears.

"_Bloody hell!" _

"Too right."

"Oh, Draco, what will be of us?"

**June of 1997**

"_Enough_!" she almost screamed. "Get the _hell_ out of my sight!"

The students gathered around her were fifth years and up, her last class of the night. Some of them had reached the third belt, and her very first students – Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were already on the fourth. Two months of Ageing Potions had assured her some – slight- maturing, and the rumours had stopped for the time being. Although she knew it wouldn't last long. Not with her luck.

Her apprentices were most surprised by her tone. The joyful, mischievous, smart little (_little? She's taller than I am_!) girl was noticeable uncomfortable when it came to order people around. She always had a command with a tone that was kind and pleading, almost begging for people to do as she says- do you not agree? Would you like to?... - She only managed to keep the class on control basically because they were hell bent on learning whatever she may have to teach – she was a tough fight. _Slytherins_ paid attention, and that was something.

But she'd been different in the last months... well, everybody was almost at nervous breakdown, but she seemed to be losing a battle with her own nerves. She was screaming! And cursing! The classes seemed to be getting tense, instead of the previous stress-relieving state. So, with so much as a final look, the older students got their bags and left the room for the bathrooms. Some went to the infirmary to heal some light cuts- they'd been training fighting with daggers.

Arien left a huge sigh escape her lungs as the last student left, closing the door behind him. she felt sick with the feeling that the huge stonewalls of the castle were closing in around her. And Dumbledore forbade her of going outside by any means- by all that's sacred, how was she supposed to live? The stress of the teenagers was driving her nearly insane. The fear was so thick she could taste it, sharp and metallic against her tongue, smelling acrid and foul. The worry for their loved ones – nearly half the students must be orphan by now.

And the walls. Huge, ancient, oppressive.

Overwhelming. Threatening. _Maddening._

'_So close ...so close ...twenty minutes of walk, not even five minutes if I run ... the forest ... the trees, the animals, the wet soil under my bare feet ... the breeze over my face_ ...'

Open. Enthralling. Bewitching.

Five minutes.

_Freedom._

'_Damn the castle.'_

Gathering her wand and keeping it reassuringly on her right hand, a couple of twin daggers on her back, she fled to the only place she could think of being at the moment. a blur of grey and red, she crossed the stairs so fast the paintings didn't even had time to wonder what that had been.

Probably just a breeze.

Actually leaving the castle was absurdly easy. 'Maybe the problem is to get in, not out.' The night was blessedly cool, a soft breeze caressing the trees and creating little waves on the lake.

The grass has obviously been neglected, it was too high. But she kept on running to the forest, only stopping when she was deep into its core.

Arien raised her hand to caress the trees around her, recalling their names with teary eyes. Here was the first sycamore she talked to ... and there the oak who sheltered her during the death eater's attack two years ago ... some distance ahead, a group of willows.

She let the tears fall freely- it was not as if there was a crowd around her anyway.

She could finally breath.

She reacquainted with the trees, listened to them and went deeper in to see the most exotic animals ever. For obvious reasons, they'd been having only theoretical Care of the Magical Creatures lessons. The forest was very alive, with a pulsing heart of its own, and the little half-elven drank it all into her soul, savouring the feelings around her, the quietness and peace she so sorely missed.

_It had been so long._

_Far too long._

A couple of hours later, her senses jumped alert again, as there was something foul drawing near. '_Not all things in the forest are good, Arien'_ Dumbledore had said. '_it's forbidden for a reason_.' And now whatever the reason was, it was coming towards her, quite fast. The almost non-existent noise of leaves being crushed. Too much noise.

One whole year locked in those damned stonewalls. One whole year without feeling the breeze but through the windows. One whole year suffering all the violent emotions of stressed teenagers, fearful, passionate; one whole year dreading their suspicions, hiding her past and her story, plus her future being as dark as her robes, one whole year praying to any god willing to listen to make a miracle and get her out of the hook.

One whole year of swallowing her emotions and being the perfect little Ravenclaw – smart, reasonable, witty. One whole year holding her guts and standing her ground.

One whole year of being damned stressed. But more than just one year of running and hiding.

Almost giggling on her decision, Arien pulled her daggers and got ready for some real action (training was kind of relieving, but it no longer demanded real effort from her).

And then ...

'_How, on the name of all Valar, did this thing get on earth?'_

Acromantula. _Giant Spiders._

She'd been so, so stupid. They could have come to this world just through the very same path she had used. _A portal_. But how long ago did they come? They were certainly here for quite some time. Maybe the gate opens more frequently than the headmaster might think. But there was no time for such deliberations, as a couple of spiders were already running towards her.

And she'd let her bow and arrows up in her tower room. Bloody brilliant. Again. One year before, she'd forgotten the wand, and encountered a group of evil wizards. This year, she'd forgotten her bow, and encountered one of the very few magical creatures that were highly resilient to the use of magic.

Even though she _had_ been craving for some action, something new, anything at all to save her from the emotional stress of the castle, that was a little bit too much. So she went back to the _reasonable mode._

She _ran._

"Need help?" said a deep rich voice behind her, and she had trouble to stop at her present speed. When she turned back, there was a worried-looking centaur approaching.

"Yes." She replied, letting out her breath. "The fastest way out of here. Where?"

"Obviously you can run. This way." He turned left, and started a gallop. She followed, not without effort, till they reached the borders of the forest. She stood there longingly.

"_Ai_! Why is it that I have to leave before I could even savour the forest?"

He chuckled." Savour the forest? Where are you from? This is a dark forest, child. It's dangerous here. You could have gotten bitten by a vampire, or a werewolf, or thousands of other things."

"But there's beauty within the danger, isn't it? For there are centaurs, and unicorns, and hippogriffs, and the trees are absolutely fascinating..."

"Trees? Fascinating?"

_Damn. So much for subtlety._

"Time is growing late. The headmaster's going to have my head, I'm afraid. Who should I thank?"

"My name is Firenze. Have a good rest, good luck, and a good day. And if you meet the headmaster, tell him this before he has your head: _Mars has reached the peak of its glory_."

"I will give him your message, thought it sounds strange. Good night, my friend!" she said starting her run to the main entrance of the castle. She didn't have to open it.

"_Miss Arien_. Haven't I told you to _remain inside_?"

'_Oh, shit. My lucky star_...'


	8. Chapter 7: Growing Up

_**Chapter 7: Growing up **_

"_My lover's gone, his boots no longer by my door.  
He left at dawn  
and as I slept I felt him go _

_Returns no more,  
I will not watch the ocean, _

_My lover's gone,  
no earthly ships will ever  
Bring him home again,  
bring him home again" My lover's gone, Dido._

**June 1997.**

_And so they have left._

The only surprise had been Draco. Even in face of him standing with the teachers and other students to defend the school, he was more than half-expected to run and join the Death Eater ranks. Which he didn't. He joined the ministry and was currently working as an Unspeakable. Harry, Ron and Hermione, to nobody's surprise, had run to Auror training.

The castle was so eerily silent. Half of the student board had left- to hiding or to go fighting, but left nevertheless. It was not as they could be kept forever. Time goes by, and the remaining children were left alone with neurotic teachers and Aurors for the rest of their time at the castle.

Not that they considered themselves children any longer. There are no children at war.

The halls were so cold, so lonely. Depressing, really. And yet, with all the craziness and wariness and tension, one could not help but love Hogwarts.

'_Even when you hate it at the same time'_, Arien thought.

It was five a.m. of a promisingly stunning June morning. The morning of June 17th. Her essay for Defence against the Dark arts lay on her feet, the result of a night's work. And several books around her, opened. The librarian would not come for another couple of hours, but Arien'd better clean up the mess.

The library. Her shelter on the storm. The place where everything was as it was supposed to be, where everything made sense. The place she could be alone and think.

She understood the sorting hat's decision after a couple of months in the Ravenclaw tower. She knew the Hufflepuff quarters where on the first floor, near the kitchens. After the assault of 96's Christmas, every student knew where every other house's headquarters were. The witty, clever, ever learn-yearning young people of that House were really like family. McGonagall hadn't lied at the first day of school.

She sighed and pulled a little bottle out of her backpack. It was not artistically made, wizards didn't seem to mind making a piece of art for potion bottles, but only the potions themselves. She smiled. The Auror who was teaching Potions, Mr. Caledon, was not that bad. Strict, but not terrifying.

Another sip of Ageing Potion. Another probable hundred years went down her throat. Well, hundred were certainly exaggerating. But a decade, that's almost a given. How many now? Twenty years? Thirty ? She was supposed to be twenty-three. She was, actually, turning twenty-four in October. Just another thing nobody could ever know.

Arien collected the books and put them back to the shelves. Her abilities in Arithmancy were as great as Carl's - almost non-existent. Well, risk the almost. Thanks to that, no matter how hard she tried to predict the blasted opening of the gate, Arien couldn't . Arithmancy and Arien do not become in a non-negative sentence, _Period._ No matter how many nights she'd spent looking through the books, doing and redoing the math, checking the runes, anything. She would always get three different results to the same problem- actually, if it wasn't necessary to calculate the opening of the damned gate, she would have quit it ages ago. And divination was just out of consideration- the teacher had never been good, and when she fell protecting the school, Dumbledore hadn't called another Seer. Either he thought the resistance would need them all, or that they had other things, more important things, to learn. _Like staying alive._

She pulled another book of Defense against the Dark Arts, '_Battling with beasts'_. The name was quite appropriate, she mused.

_Acromantulas._

'_Acromantulas were first reported in the magical word approximately at 2.000 B.C., in both Greek and Italian peninsulas, blending themselves with both the mythical and the magical creatures of those places. Most the muggles affected by those creatures had been either killed or obliviated later, and they are believed to have spread the legend of the Hydra. Some of the Aurors of those times were called from the Egyptian Minister of magic, in co-operation with the Arabian wizarding community, to take care of the beasts._

'_These are beasts unlike everything we knew before. They seem to be extremely resilient to magic, though not as much as dragons. They seem to be vulnerable only in the eyes and the back of their abdomens, having very strong paws, the Abu-Simbel Institute of Magic recommends using 'Conjunctivitus or Stupefy, if the wizard is powerful enough to stun the beast alone, if not, go in groups of four or five. Curiously enough, magical enforced blades are rather efficient in the killing of this particular beast- in fact, there were some muggles who could deal with a small number of them with ordinary blades or spears..._'

Arien closed the book with a dull 'thud', her heart jumping wildly in her chest. She was now sure that the Portal had opened four thousand years ago, at least. That was encouraging only in part. The elf did not wish to spend that long a time in the wizarding world, no matter how exciting it could be. It was too dangerous. If only she knew the patterns of the gate, she could calculate the intervals between the bridges.

However, as the whole of Hogwarts knew, she was a complete disaster at Arithmancy and Runes. Arien would never let anyone know of that at home, if ever she managed to return- that an elf could not decipher the meaning of runes when she had the code right before her.

Therefore she stood there, furiously recalling every bit of information her mother had given her about the First Age, Valinor, Melkor and his spider accomplice. The first rays of morning gave her no clues, so she put the books back on the shelves, gathered her parchment and left to the Great hall.

''

**(consider cutting this???)**

Ginny stared at her plate of porridge blankly.

'_They are gone.'_

Nobody even knew about it. People thought she was worried sick because of Harry, Hermione, and her family in general. Well, that was true. But there was something else bothering her.

_Draco._

In one year's time, she'd be out of Hogwarts and into the chaos that the world was now. She had received a letter from her family late in September, right after the graduated students left. Things were pretty bad outside. Somehow, her family was still alive- even her one hundred and sixty years old great-grandmother Elisa.

Muggles, poor dears, had no idea of what was going on. The ministries of Magic throughout the world were having great difficulty in preventing another world war. The muggles were under the belief that they were under a biological war, with hundreds of muggles being found dead- with no apparent reason, or just in deep comma – again with no apparent reason.

They didn't know the dementors were among them, delighting themselves on the kill. They didn't know the wizarding community was struggling to fight a hundred maniacs with muggle-slain craving. The president of the United States had even gone hysterical when their prime minister of Magic first tried to contact him. But then again, he was being blamed for releasing cold-war chemical and biological weapons on Europe to delay the establishment of the Euro and other economical pacts.

As they didn't know whom to blame, they blamed everyone. This they had in common with the wizarding community_: the panic_.

"Ginny, you've got to eat" Colin ordered. From somewhere beyond the fog that was her mind. She turned to the general direction of the sound and blinked several times, hard. As the real world came back to focus, she was able to see the concerned face of her classmate, now a very attracting sixteen year old boy. No, young man. He'd lost his parents sometime last spring, she recalled that. When he left the school, he'd be the tutor of his younger brother, Denis, who'd leave right after him.

Straight to the mouth of the beast. _Oh, shit._

"I'm not hungry" she said, honestly. She'd absolutely lost her appetite since September.

"Even so." He replied, sounding very much like her father. "Eat. Being ill will do you no good."

Since when had he gotten so wise?

She began putting spoonfuls of porridge in, not really tasting it. If she was not so lost in her thoughts, she'd be shocked she'd obeyed without much arguing.

**((end of cutting??? Section)**

''

''

"What was that at the club, Arien?"

Carl had grown almost to her height – he'd been a head shorter than her at the first year. In some ways, he was still pretty much the same boy. Book-addicted. Chess-fanatic. Witty, but calm and extraordinarily sure of his character and his power to the point he didn't find it necessary to gloat about himself. One of those people who knew who they were and were not in a hurry for the rest of the world to realise it- in fact, he didn't mind the rest of the world's worship. He was also kind, caring and a gentleman in any circumstance. He'd told her once the Hat considered putting him in _Hufflepuff_. On the other hand, he was now less carefree, less cool, and his every word hid a huge amount of calculation and consideration before being uttered. He, with all the students on those walls, had lost his innocence and his youth way too fast. He was always hanging around her in their free time-, which unfortunately was very sparse. They were the Ravenclaw version of the tenacious Trio – only that they didn't get into nearly as much trouble, as they were either more sensible or simply luckier. He was often the voice of reason when they faced a dead end. Sarah was the adventurous one, curious and almost reckless.

"Whatever do you mean?" Arien asked neutrally.

"Don't try to outsmart a Ravenclaw, Arien, even if you are a Ravenclaw." He stated cockily, in mocked arrogance, and the two girlfriends chuckled quietly.

"My apologies, kind sir. I should have known better."

"Why, really, Arien. What was that?" Sarah asked, scrutinizing her friend.

"How on earth will I know?" she replied simply. A pang of sadness struck her –' _three years ago I'd say how on middle-earth am I supposed to know... if I come back... will I be a foreign there as much as I am here? Am I a foreign here yet? Will I want to come back at all?'_

"Earth to Arien, earth to Arien... anyone home?" Sarah called her out of her dark thoughts.

"What?"

"I don't think she'd listened." Carl pointed.

"Oh, well... dear, you've got to pay attention on real life, you know? Anyway, we were telling you we are a couple."

She smiled. "Finally."

"What?" Carl demanded. Sarah could only gasp. "You knew?"

"Don't try to outsmart a Ravenclaw, even if you are a Ravenclaw..." she grinned "Oh, guys, you didn't _really_ think I didn't know, did you?"

"I am most positively sure I was discreet about us, darling." Carl defended himself with all dignity. Arien laced her arms around both her friends.

"Yes, but you couldn't quite hide that goofy grin out of you face, neither Sarah could quite cover her dreamy sighs... should I go on?"

"No, I got the idea." Sarah managed to blurt.

''

It had been a long, long journey. He'd done it before, of course... in other circumstances, five years ago. Back then he'd come to protect his godson and get his hands on Pettigrew's throat. If only he had killed him that night...

But dwelling in the past would do him no good – he had refused it when those horrible dementors surrounded him, he still refused it now. He had a mission, a purpose, and a goal. And it was Hogwarts, again, after all those years. Who else would be able to get into the wards of the school?

Stealthily entering the Shrieking Sack, he used the good old secret passage to the whomping willow. He'd have to get out of the tree's reach quickly, as he hadn't pressed down the knot. That done, he moved quickly inside the castle. He needed to give the headmaster news of the Resistance's advances and losses.

"At this rate we'll have no more wizards left in few years time, Dumbledore." Sirius was back in his human form, having his first proper meal in a month, though the matters at hand were too important to wait. So, they were talking as they ate, in the welcome safety of the headmaster's office.

"Let's cling to hope, old friend. Hope, and hard work, and it may go well in the end. "

"We have centres in both South and North America, Australia, China, Egypt And France. Western Europe is being troublesome, but Natie is doing a good job and we shall have a G.Q. there soon. For now..." Sirius took a yellow envelope out of his pocket "this is the updated list. It was made a week ago."

"And who is in charge now, my friend?"

"Bird is the new Minister of Magic, as Fudge got himself killed. Tried to make up for his past mistakes and ended up screwing it royally. Bird is a good man, and he has the guts to do what must be done. I believe things are less dark now."

Dumbledore was scanning the list, going through the names of students' relatives that had been killed in the last two months. Then he saw one of the last names and froze.

"_Perce Weasley_?"

"He was caught. When we got there, there was nothing we could do about."

"We can't lose that much spies, Sirius, it does us no good."

"Well, what can I say? They are getting smart. I'll give them that, they're getting smart."

''

**(consider cutting this as well))**

"They are in mission for the resistance now, Ginny, I can't tell you where. It's just big." Sirius said, holding her hands at the headmaster's office. He hadn't left the place yet, Ginny had been brought there because she was a friend of his, his godson's best friend's sister and a good person. And, like all Weasleys, she would go into the army as soon as she was out of school- that's just the way they are.

"Are they safe? I mean, as safe as possible under the circumstances, of course..."

"Yes, as safe as anyone could be. But Ginny, that's not why I wanted to talk to you, though."

Suddenly she knew she didn't want to hear whatever he was about to say.

"We lost Percy, Ginny. A month ago. Fallen in action."

**((end of cutting section))**

''

**April of 1998, Wales.**

Draco strode to the ancient ruins of a castle –or that was what it would've looked like, to a muggle. For it was actually the G.Q of the Resistance at the Great Britain – all senior agents had agreed that place it at Hogwarts (as it had been on the first rise of Voldemort) would be folly and only serve to increase the already remarkable threat hanging over the greatest school of witchcraft and wizardry of the British islands.

With the switch of Minister of Magic, last September, the Resistance had finally become truly joined with the official forces of the Ministry – and his first task had been fulfilled.

For he, Draco Malfoy, had been sent to the Ministry to help Arthur Weasley on bringing the government back to Earth. For months, he had used his slytherin traits to its maximum to make people realise their current course of action was less than optimal. Actually, less than minimal, really... for him, being a slytherin, a Malfoy, the son of the likely second-in-command Death eater, to get inside the ministry, manipulate wizards with far more experience than himself, and eventually even win the trust of his- still oblivious- father-in-law-to-be, had been a great accomplishment.

And now the two light armies were united. _And he had helped to make it_.

And come to think of it, Scarface was actually doing what he planned with the other Unspeakables. For he was also in the Department who traced the strategy of the wizarding army.

Obviously Draco couldn't go around with the looks he had inherited. The Death eaters- and his father in special, he had no doubts on that- were very much pissed off about his _'betrayal'_. So he lived among the muggles, dyed his hair dark-brown and used black contact lenses when he was not home.

Finally reaching the gigantic oak door that lead to the meeting room, he retrieved his wand and murmured the password. Bill Weasley had come from Egypt, taking a break from his Gringots job, to test the wards around the G.Q.'s , the Ministry, the wizarding schools and the wizards that were a potential target for the Death Eaters.

Entering the room, he found the usual people gathered around the massive oak table. Sirius Black, cleared due to an undeniable apparition of Peter Pettigrew at one of the D.E. attacks; Remus Lupin, his former DADA teacher; Minerva McGonagall, former royal-bitch and head of Gryffindor House- and Dumbledore's right arm; Arabella Figgs, squibb and secret bodyguard of Scarface all through his childhood, with Mad-eyed-Moody, of whom he'd better not to say a word. Bradley, Bird's man of trust; Bird, The Man himself, some Unspeakables like Draco himself, and the delegations of Belgian, France, Germany and Spain.- all conveniently checked and re-checked under Veritaserum. The memories of spies within the high table were all too strong for them to be careless. Not to mention what was at stake- one word breathed and the word would have even less wizards on it. Not that they could give themselves such a luxury. All in all, about thirty people sat at the table.

He silently took his place, nodding to the others, and waited for Bird to define the schedule of the meeting. Security plans were discussed, attacks planned, and they stood there well into the night, carefully outlining every move they would do in the next two weeks. Apparently, the Wonder Trio had been successful in blasting one D.E.'s den in Nigeria the night before, and they would now analyse what to do with the information taken from them.

And in September, Ginny would leave Hogwarts. He had personally asked Dumbledore to perform the Fidelius on them when she left- so they could live together in relative peace. Of course it would be difficult, especially with her family, but he was seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, and that was a lot more than he'd asked for.

''

**June of 1998.**

Fourth years Ravenclaw and Gryffindor left the Healing class to their rooms, exhausted. Poppy had taught them some basic wandless healing magic that drained a lot of energy from the wizards. Of course they were excused from the next class, Herbology, for absolute and utter lack of energy.

"Thank god it's Saturday!" cried Deborah Marshal.

"Tell me about it!' said Gabriel Stewart. Under martial law, the only free day the students got was Sunday. After all, they had to accommodate Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, Junior Auror training, duelling club and magical Healing to their already busy schedule. The students were not the ones who were slightly paranoid, after all.

"Hey, Arien, you up to some matches of Explosive Snaps?" asked Selena.

"No, but I think I'll give the Wizarding chess another try later tonight." she chuckled.

"You know, Arien... I knew, deep down inside, you were not a squib." Carl replied seriously. Sarah nodded vigorously.

"We were worried about you, girl."

"_Hey_!"

"Seriously." Sarah professed.

"Sarah, you wouldn't recognise seriousness if it was a naked young man dancing in front of you with a red hat."

"Hey, it's my girlfriend you're talking with. Don't give her ideas."

"Sorry." She smiled sheepishly.

"So you'll finally give in and take lessons with the master, huh?" at that exact second, he reminded her so much of Ron her heart sank. Her friends were far, far away. So far away she couldn't reach their minds anymore, even when she could endure the stress and pain of putting her mental barriers down and go '_hunting_'. They must be in the continent.

She had a secret dread of what might happen when she was forced to cross the ocean – she was half-elven, a first generation at that. It wasn't illogical to think she might- she may- have the same longing for the ocean the First Born had. and that was a scary thought.

"Yes, you'll have you chance to make me pay for all those punches I had you getting. But I must seek the headmaster first."

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, no big deal. It's just counselling – you know, the trouble maker has to see the Headmaster, so he could try to put some sense into that thick skull of hers..."

"I thought he'd forgiven you. It's been an awful lot of time since whatever it was that had gone wrong between you."

'_Oh, you mean that night I freaked out and run to the forest, not to mention that I almost got myself killed by a super-sized evil spider which came from my very own world_?'

Speaking of which, could it be they are relatives of Ungoliant (considering those damned elves haven't exaggerated everything, as it was their habit)?

"Well, he watches me all the time. Seems I'm the trouble-maker of the school now that most the Weasleys are gone."

'_Ginny leaves this September... make sure you'll say goodbye to her... make sure you'll meet her afterwards... how on earth am I supposed to make sure we'll be alive to meet each other later?_'

Shaking the gloomy thoughts off her head, Arien braved a smile for her audience and picked up her bag. "Well, I better go. See you later."

"See you," they replied absentmindedly, already pulling off the gameboard.

She switched the backpack to the other shoulder, the very first one she'd bought, as she hadn't really time to go to Diagon Alley since that first visits on her first week on Earth.

_Locked. Trapped. Caged._

Not that she didn't love the school. She did. A lot. She found in herself a thirst for knowledge that was insatiable – she would never get tired of reading in the quiet of the library at the silent hours of the night- even in her book lust, there was still a good three quarters of the library she hadn't read yet. Neither would she get tired of absorbing whatever it is that her teachers laid before her wondered eyes. Nor the discussions about both the magical and muggle worlds. Hogwarts had been a blessing, and she thanked her lucky stars for being graced with enrolling there before the storm has struck. One year later, and she wouldn't be able to. One year later and she'd be stuck and lost in the muggle world, never knowing her full potential.

Still ... all her being screamed with the torture of being kept indoors. She was a child of nature, born to wander free through the woods, to swim carefree in the rivers and lakes, to run wild in the meadows. Not to madden slowly between those silent, inflexible stone walls. Oh, yes, there are walls, that pretend to be doors, and doors that pretend to be walls, paintings that are doors, stairs changing ... an infinite number of secret places and chambers that opened only under specific situations, only on specific days, and it was a wonderful challenge for her restless and curious mind- something to focus on. Challenge.

_But it was still maddening._

With a sight, she stopped before the gargoyle at the fifth floor. As it was a magical statue, it was useless to try reading his mind- and honestly, she was far too tired for that. Too many dark thoughts on her head, too many uncertainties, too many questions, too much. Too much everything.

It opened by itself, and Arien climbed the spiral stairs to the well-known Headmaster's Office.

"Hello there , Arien. How are you feeling today?" the headmaster was, as always, chewing some of those little candies. Arien sank in the nearest armchair.

"Trapped. Breathless. Nervous wreck. Oh, please, Albus, _I need_ to go to the forest. Any forest, just let me spend some hours there."

Dumbledore sighed, the twinkle of his eyes gone.

"I understand at this particular age you are very impetuous, my dear child ... after all, I do remember how it was to be young. But you must understand that we are at war, and the forbidden forest is not only off-limits, but also very much a suicide. You could have been killed."

Arien turned her face to look at the fire on the hearth, unable to sustain the gaze of the older wizard. If Galadriel was remotely like that, she'd pray to the heavens never to meet the she-elf. But then again, she prayed so everyday anyway.

"They came from my world, did you know?"

"What makes you think so?" a master, probing his pupil.

"I had heard of them in my world. There had been one that was quite famous, called _Ungoliant_. She lived at the first age, and she was let into Valinor to destroy the realm, and she drained the light of the Holy Trees. The last fruits of those trees were supposed to have become the sun and the moon- but that can, and probably is, just elven rubbish. They love to embellish stories like that. The spider-part, however is probably true. Then she left Valinor and hid on the dark places of middle earth and, somehow, bred. And when I met these creatures at the forest I made the link in my mind, then I found at the library that they appeared in this world four thousand years ago."

Dumbledore was still paying attention, a curious glow on his eyes, but no other show of emotion or interest in his face.

"The gate was opened four thousand years ago. "

"I've come to find a shorter period, my dear. Something between five hundred years and one hundred years from one portal opening to the other."

"Five hundred years? I cannot wait that long!" she screamed, utterly frustrated.

"Are you sure you want to go back, Arien?" he asked pointedly.

_Damn him. DAMN HIM._

"Don't know." A whisper. "I don't know anything..."

"Oh, "he said, back to the old-eccentric-wizard-mode "Socrates once said '_all I know is that I know nothing'_, and he was considered the wisest of his country. He's still considered one of the wisest people ever to grace Earth!"

"Oh, come on!" Arien lost her patience. It was a cycle- she went to the woods, and her temper went numb for months. She became a good-tempered, mild-mannered girl...and then she started feeling confined, and her foul mood arose back. "You know what I mean!"

"No I don't, thought I might have an idea. Why don't you tell me tough? The I can say something, based on my previous experience with teenagers in distress."

**((consider cutting this))**

She gave the idea some consideration ... the Headmaster certainly had experience in handling with wild emotions of unpredictable students. Thought she highly doubted he'd dealt with an utterly lost half-elven girl. Deciding voicing her concerns might help her understanding them – somehow alike the almost-forgotten diary he had once urged her to keep.

"Who am I, Albus? I'm no longer who I was when I got here. I don't know where I belong anymore, I don't know even if I want to go home, thought staying here would be far too hard to my taste ... seeing the people I care about die, time after time..."

"Death is just the next big adventure, Arien."

"For those who are going away, yes. But for those who stay behind?"

"For that I have no answer, except that we must live our lives as fully as we can. _Carpe diem_, Arien. Enjoy the day. Tomorrow will bring its own sorrow, but let's not grieve till time has come."

Words of wisdom. Yes, that she could do.

"All right. But then Albus ...who am I? I'm supposed to be a child, but I'm not. I don't feel like a child, most the times I feel old. Far older than I should at this age."

"Arien... under the current circumstances... I am sorry –"

"I'm not speaking of the war. I'm speaking of me. I was raised among humans. A human my age is almost an adult – but I'm not supposed to be so. And yet, I feel it, I feel so. Some days, I'm childish, I want only to play games and have fun. Other times, I get myself thinking things I shouldn't be thinking about."

To her absolute disbelief and horror, he laughed. Laughed, of all things!

"That, my dear, is called adolescence. Am I to understand that you have developed a crush on someone?" he pointed, hitting the target.

Arien swore loudly and profusely, not minding at all the horrified reactions of the previous headmasters paintings- Professor Dippet was purple in repressed fury. Damn him, _damn him, DAMN HIM!_

"That should lead to a positive conclusion, then" said Dumbledore, still trying to recover from a particularly violent fist of laughter. Arien quickly left the room before she could make even a better fool of herself.

She had the feeling the whole thing was rather dark. They've got to be called crushes for a reason.

She was not in a hurry to find out why.

"Hey sweetie! You're just in time for a big wizarding chess lesson!" beamed Carl. Apparently he had finished a match with Sarah (with all the interesting things to do with your sweetheart, those two go play chess! Humans!) they tried a couple of games, but her heart wasn't on it.

"Checkmate." He said, for the third time.

"Oh, bugger."

"Language, Arien." That was so typically Carl, Arien couldn't suppress a sneer. Her mood was getting fouler and fouler. He gave an embarrassed grin.

"That time of the month, right? The _Don't-mess-with-me-period_."

Now what on earth was he talking about? Couldn't it be... but by his violent blush it probably was ... he was talking about the _Period_? But she didn't have to worry with that for a long time ... she expected to mature enough to pass through that particularly embarrassing situation sometime around sixty, seventy years old ...

...but then again, _Ageing Potion_.

_Oh, lovely_. And to make it even better, a guy – _for pity sake, a GUY_!- had realised it before herself. Just how low would she sink.

"I think I better go talk with Poppy." She said, fleeing the common room. Carl hid his blush by pretending he was fixing his shoelaces, and Sarah chuckled shamelessly.

Well, now she knew how long she had skipped.


	9. Chapter 8: Foolish Games

A.N.: I saw this poem in _' Before the dawn_', an HP fic.

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Foolish games**

"(...)_ If only night can hold you where I can see you, my love_

_Then let me never ever wake again_

_And maybe tonight, we'll fly so far away_

_We'll be lost before the dawn_

_Somehow I know we can't wake again from this dream_

_It's not real, but it's ours_

_Maybe tonight, we'll fly so far away_

_We'll be lost before the dawn."_

**September 1998.**

The evening of that September 1st was cool and pleasant, a perfect evening of end of summer. The sky was clear and star-dotted, and Arien thought numbly that she had seen a night like that. The graduating students stood in the front of the oak doors, brave detached faces hiding the twisted emotions of finally leaving the haven Hogwarts was and entering the war in its worst. A great deal of the younger students went with them, enjoying the bittersweet relief of being allowed outside because of the dozens of Aurors that had been called to ensure their safety on the travel.

Arien ran forth and hugged Ginny tightly, letting the tears out. The elf was a nervous wreck, and lacked the strength to hold her emotions buried within. Some other students said their good-byes in quieter ways.

"Promise you'll keep yourself in one piece?"

"Try my best, Arien" Ginny replied in a strangled voice. She wouldn't hold on for much longer. Odds were that Ginny would lock herself in the train's restroom and cry her heart out.

"Would you deliver the guys some letters?"

"Of course, Enn. Give them to me." Arien obliged, and Ginny pocketed a handful of letters. For a couple of minutes they stood there, staring at each other; lots of things to say and no nerve to say them. In the end, it was Ginny who broke the silence.

"When you're out, come see us. I'll be waiting for you outside, with all the gang."

"You better. Or else I'll hunt you down so fast you won't even know what hit you."

"Yes, sir." Ginny chuckled.

"I'll find you guys. Promise."

"Mom will be thrilled. She always asks for you."

"She has that strange habit of adopting lost children, doesn't she?

"That's mom. But you know, it was nice to have a girl to talk to."

They hugged one another again, as they didn't know what else to say.

"I'll miss you."

"Miss you too."

**(9consider cutting off))**

"Oh, Gin..." said Arien, the shadow of her old mischief in her eyes, "please send my regards to that gorgeous dragon of yours."

"Hey, how do you..."

"Oh, seriously, Gin. I'm a Ravenclaw! Okay, sometimes I screw it up royally, but eventually I have a brilliant inspiration."

"How modest..."

"Aren't I? Oh- _oh, Ginny, take care_."

**((end of cutting section))**

And so the last Weasley left Hogwarts, entering the train with her friend Colin, who turned back to give his younger brother a final bone-crushing hug. And a couple of minutes later the Hogwarts Express left Hogsmeade, to arrive at King's Cross Station at morning.

Arien was alone. Again.

Turning miserably to return to the castle, she saw the figures of her friends waiting for her in the Entrance Hall. Carl and Sarah were holding hands, and talking to the rest of the gang- they called themselves the _Eagles_, silly as that might be, it was their nickname and gave them the feeling of belonging to a group ; they were waiting for that one hurt bird to go back to the nest.

She was wrong. She was not alone. Embracing Selena and Gabriel, she made her way back to The Nest. They had classes the other day.

''

The first thing Ginny saw when she stepped out of the train wasn't her mother or any of her relatives. The first thing she saw was a strikingly handsome dark-haired man, with dark eyes and ivory pale skin. She needn't anyone to tell her who the man was.

He had come. He had waited.

She run like a berserk to embrace him, taking in his scent- musk and pinewood, and then she knew she was home again.

Only a few minutes later she looked around and searched for her family.

"They couldn't come. Arthur is trapped at the ministry now, and the others were strongly recommended not to show up, in the case there was a trap. So, I'll be the one to take you home." He said with a dazzling smile, while tracing little circles on the small of her back.

"I'm home now." She replied simply. "But I really want to see them. Have you told daddy? Why have you been appointed to ... ? what happened in this last year?"

"Why don't we talk in the way out? The change of time and date can only confuse the Death Eaters so much... we must leave quickly."

"All right then. Let's move."

''

**Hogwarts, November 5th of 2000.**

Arien sat trembling at the corner of her bed.

Ever since that blasted evening three years and a half ago, Dumbledore had kept her under constant vigilance. It was for her own good, he said. Lots of baddies and all that. It figured that the professors of Hogwarts had diminished the perimeter of the protective wards in order to increase their effectiveness. Every once in a while a bunch of Death Eaters would be found dead, a corpse magically trapped to the powerful wards of the school. But that also meant that even going to the lake needed official permission of the headmaster and the presence of a couple of teachers.

Arien was convinced falling in the baddies ( lack of ) mercy couldn't be so bad after all.

She had been led to the hospital wing more times than she cared to admit. The elf slept longer than she needed, trying to block the reality away. Her friends would wake up with her screaming from time to time- thought it wasn't so out of the ordinary those days. Arien had panic attacks, stopping dead in the middle of the halls while going to a class, suddenly needing to pay great attention to the simple act of breathing. More than once she'd begged the headmaster to let her out of the school with her weapons and her wand, and may Eru be with her. Anything to leave the stonewalls. Anything for a couple of hours in the wild. She would even take that Voldie-guy on her own just to get the hell out of there.

_Before she went mad for good._

Thank goodness, Dumbledore finally acknowledged that she wasn't merely acting folly but actually feeling sick. Sixth and seventh years, with all the professors , would take a tour in the forbidden forest. A _tour_ with a hundred students wasn't exactly her first option, but then again Arien was desperate by now.

With shaky fingers she put on her winter robes - the house elves got them all new clothes, for they were all growing up, god only knows how. Maybe McGonagall had transfigured them. Arien looked up when her fellow girls entered the room looking for her- Deborah, Selena, and Sarah were chatting about something, thought she couldn't distinguish it for her dear life.

Oh, yes. Some in-depth discussion about DADA. And speaking of which ...

"Come on, sleeping beauty! Time to go out!" cried Debbie. Even that human was feeling relieved about leaving the halls for a change.

"It couldn't be too soon." She muttered. But her legs weren't obeying her. Oh, no, she would not stay behind in the one possibility go to the woods because of a trembling leg. No way. With a final effort she stood up and left the dorm with the other Eagles.

"Are you feeling ok?" Sarah held her arm, helping her to stand up. "You look gray!"

"I ... I better eat something. Must be sugar-low."

"Arien, you should take care of yourself. Someday, those nine lives you seem to have will fail you, you know?"

''

She started feeling better the second she left the castle behind. Striding forth with the professors, Arien controlled herself not to run. She wanted to cry so badly- but of course, if she did so, she'd never be allowed out again. They wouldn't release one with so little self-restraint.

Entering the woods, she stopped to relish the scents and sounds of the Forbidden Forest.

There was something running about file miles to the east. Centaurs, or unicorns. A couple of miles to the north, two or three, faeries were dancing and laughing. Some kind of reptiles were crawling not far from them. Chameleons? Salamanders ? _no, salamanders live in the flames, _she corrected herself

With a deep intake of breath, she went on with her fellows. If anyone found it weird that she kept touching the trees, nobody spoke a word. She went on her task alone, not willing to let any trifle talk distract her from the worshiping Nature deserved and needed.

They found some Acromantulas, and the teachers showed them how to handle the foul creatures – thought Hagrid seemed at the verge of tears. They found many other dark beasts on the way, and Hagrid got more and more distressed. The professors were severe, thought, telling him in no uncertain terms that the children ability's to survive were far more important than the well fare of those beings. But as it was almost winter, and night fell early, they returned to the castle before twilight.

That the Arien who went to the forest was completely different of the Arien who went out of it.

''

**London, June of 2002.**

Arien's second train ride was even weirder than her first. The departure had been downright depressing. Now all ten Eagles were stuffed into a cabin, talking about their immediate future plans, trying hard not to think this may be the last time they are all together- and alive.

"Why don't you go to the Department of Mysteries with us?" asked Sarah, who was seated on Carl's lap, under the excuse that there wasn't enough room.

"They don't need more Unspeakables, Sarah. They need Aurors."

"Aurors _die_, Arien."

"So they do, but I won't." she replied with the same stubbornness. The landscape was doing a marvellous job at calming her nerves.

"Thailand or Caribbean ?" Carl spoke after a short nervous silence. They'd been talking about that trip for a year- and so far they couldn't decide a destination.

"Anywhere goes, for me." Arien said. Nobody paid attention because an old competition had arisen again, and both sides were duelling ferociously. In the end, it was the very-adventurous Debbie who came up with a solution.

"I tell you what," she said, her eyes shining with excitement "we'll all get huge rewards for bravery at war-"

"Yeah, right;" cut Gabe "we all know the Ministry is broke. They don't have money to give us huge rewards."

"As I was saying", Debbie rose her voice a little, waving her hand to dismissed the uncalled for opinion "We'll get the money and then we'll buy a nice racing brooms and some great camping tents, and just take a grand tour all over the world, go wherever we want. What do you say?"

The Ravenclaws thought about it for a while.

'_Explore a new world with friends who were like family. What else could a half-elven want from life?_' after seven years indoors, the perils of her first journey seemed rather romantic. She was still young, a child at heart- even if she was now a teenager. She wanted to see the world. To live great adventures. To make great things. "I think that's the best idea you have had yet, Deborah."

"_Our brooms and a camping tent_." One by one the eagles fulfilled that muggle ritual of placing your hand above your friend's.

''

**((consider cutting this section?))**

When the train was almost at the station, Arien went looking for Dumbledore. She was almost going to check it in the back cabins, when she heard him entering the corridor. "oh, Arien dear." He said, his eyes glimmering with affection, "haven't I told you that you wouldn't need to worry with accommodations for some time?"

"Yes, you have. Dumbledore, I ..."

"There is no need to say it, child."

_Child_, for seven years he took care of her as if she was his child- _even when she blatantly didn't want to be taken care of_. And now she was leaving, no guarantees they would ever meet again. This world was exotic and exciting, but also very, very hard.

"May I ... may I hug you?' she asked with a barely audible voice. Her answer was a real grandparents-style hug.

"Arien... when you are out there, and for as long as it takes for you to go back to you world, when and if you decide it... I want you to promise me you won't take that Potion again."

Arien had been taking the Ageing Potion every week from her mid-second year to her mid-sixth year. Then Dumbledore told her she had achieved a maturing stage expected for her supposed age and could stop taking the doses.

"All right. I can handle that."

"Good." And then, releasing her; "You may stay at the Leaky Cauldron for a couple of days, while you settle your business with Gringotts. But I advise you not to linger. I wish you good luck with your Auror training and the path you choose for yourself. Take care, and be happy, Arien."

"I will. Thank you, Albus. For _everything_."

He laughed then, but quietly. "Oh, no, child. This is not a good-bye. We'll see each other again yet."

"See you then."

"See you. Now go, go."

''

The station was pretty much what Arien recalled of her first visit – with much less people. With a final shrug of her shoulders she gathered her trunk and followed Carl, as his family would give her a ride to Diagon Alley. She had a whole week ahead of her to visit to her vault and go through her family's things. Buy books- loads of books. And clothes, both muggle clothing and wizarding robes. And herbs for potions, her supplies were almost non-existent... quills and parchment, and an owl. Or maybe she could buy the owl when she got in the Auror training centre.

**((end of cutting section))**

''

**Curitiba, Paraná- Brazil. December of 2002.**

Auror training was tough, but nothing she couldn't survive. In this part of globe, summer was at its peak – and it was really weird to jump from fall to summer. She breathed deeply, feeling the scents of several woods and gardens throughout the lovely city, the very reason why she had picked that one among the many available options for Auror training.

The trainees were living in a rather lovely building at _Rua Barão do Rio Branco_- the façade showed only old building- as ancient as it could be for such an young city-, colonial style. Once inside, there were five floors counting the dungeons(but only three of them appeared outside for the muggles), fighting training rooms, potions labs, theoretical classes, curses and logical investigation. As they lived in the very heart of the city, she could be in several woods in a twenty-minutes walk. People were warm and welcoming, and the elf felt at home after four months only. Arien had already made some friends, most of them muggles- she was going to meet some of them at five p.m., in front of the movies of the _Estação Plaza Shopping Mall_ – conveniently close from the Training Centre. The mall was all decorated like a children's park – it had once been a train station, and that was the theme of the decoration. Trail roads on the floor, fake subway stations lead to restrooms, and there was even some miniature trains inside the building. That was her favourite mall of the city- childlike, joyful and full of life, like she was feeling herself being once again.

"_Arien_!" some of her friends called out. They were the most heterogeneous group possible- some descended of Orientals, other of German immigrants, other of Italians, or Polish, or Portuguese. There was Eduardo, who studied advertisement and was working in the local television agency, dirty blonde and the greatest smile you could think of. Madalena (also known as _Ma _) was the short girl with honey-coloured hair who was trying to get into the law school. Joanna reminded Arien of Keptah, with bronze coloured skin and warm eyes who were ever understanding – she was doing vet school, Zeca was the clown, _au concour_ (_god protects them all if he ever meet the twins_). Dark hair and amber eyes, always telling jokes – or playing practical jokes. Arien told herself to keep an eye on him at all times.

"Hi guys!" she greeted, Brazilian way- and oh, she loved it – one kiss on each cheek, with a big hug. "Where are Angela and Miguel?"

"He called us fifteen minutes ago, they went to Santa Felicidade to get Paulo, and will be here in half an hour," enlightened Joanna. "Let's pick a table in the meantime."

They walked to a square in the mall, asking for beverages and drinks from the nearby bars. It was called nourishment park, or something like it. An institution, of course – you sit and talk, eat and drink. An alternative option of happy hours.

"So Arien, how was you exams?" asked Ma, always the most serious when it came to study – even thought she lost her seriousness quite thoroughly after some _caipirinhas_, and had to be kept still or would embarrass herself by singing in public. Or rather trying to. She couldn't sing for the life of her.

'_Oh, exams. The Auror tests, of course."_

"Well, it went quite smooth. But you know, I really think they should re-think the graduating procedure. It's so outdated."

_Big mistake, _Arien thought as Madalena took a deep breath to reply. Ma went on talking about the pros and cons of the educational methods till twenty-five minutes later when Angela arrived with Miguel and Paulo.

"Hey, people! Fancy meeting here." Cried Paulo. Angela couldn't say anything as she was laughing from something Miguel told in her ear.

"As if," Joanna cut him "we all know how you practically forced Miguel to bring you here."

"He threatened me!" cried Miguel. "_Waiter_! Bring us three beers."

"I hate beer." Protested Angela. "You know that."

"What would you like then, heart?"

"Cooler." Arien and Angela said . the half-elven raised her own glass to the waiter, and told him Angela would have the same – strawberry cooler. Both had very low alcoholic endurance. Which was a constant source of amusement to their friends.

When he brought the drinks, Arien noticed a handsome dark-haired man, sitting alone in a nearby table. He couldn't be there for long, though, or else she would have sensed him before. Wouldn't she? She hadn't even finished her first glass, and that was a very light drink... could it affect her senses so?

"If you excuse me" she said, and to her utter surprise and embarrassment felt her cheeks burning "I'll be right back." She stood up as her friends teased her to no end.

"Oh, dear, for god's sake don't come back soon!" cried Ma.

"Yes, go for it, girl." grinned Miguel, delighted.

"You are terrible, have I told you that?"

"Yes!" they said in chorus. She carried her drink and walked leisurely to the dark man's table. He was looking great, grey trousers and a black shirt. She didn't waste time asking if she could seat with him, and he didn't seem to mind her presence there either.

"Anything wrong, Sirius?"

"Not really."

"So, what are you doing here?"

"Have anything against it?" he asked, piercing her eyes with his own. Sirius's eyes were as volatile and unpredictable as the man, always changing with the light of the environment and his moods. Now, it was a dark shade of grey, almost black.

"No, I have not. I just got worried. What are you drinking?"

"Whisky."

"Hope you're not outraged if I don't follow." She made another sign for the waiter and asked another glass.

"No, I'm not." He chuckled.

"Could you give me any news from the gang?" His face hardened and closed. "You don't have to tell me where they are. Sirius, I know the rules, okay? I'm just asking to know if they are all right."

The drink arrived and she distracted herself by taking a sip. The senior Auror stood there, blatantly reckoning her. Evaluating, probing, weighing.

"Harry got married."

"I expected so. He always wanted to have a family."

"So did Ginny. Mione and Ron are still together. And I have two young Unspeakables that ask about you all the time." He said, in his cool, detached tone.

She laughed. "they are such a dears."

He finished his drink without deigning to answer.

"But that doesn't explain why you are here," she pointed again. Arien was truly curious as to what would have brought one of Dumbledore's most trusted agents all the way to Latin America. Would it be possible that Dumbledore was keeping a closer eye on her than she thought? The hypothesis wasn't completely absurd...

"Why are you so sure there's a reason?"

"_I'm counting on that_. After all, it's too much to believe you apparated from old Scotland just to have a drink. I mean, you left _Scotland_ to drink _Whiskey_ in _Brazil_? No bloody way."

"Language, language, Miss Bernard."

"Call me Arien. Everybody does."

"All right – Arien. I'm here to check on your progress. Dumbledore has kept an eye on his pupils and it seems some of them have shown extraordinary results."

"Am I one of them?" she tilted his chin with her index finger. Such an intimate gesture- but she was, after all, taught to show physically her affection since she could remember. And that's not something you forget easily, no matter how many centuries pass. It was plainly innocent, but he didn't seem to think so.

"Yes." He replied simply. Then, turning his head back so he lost contact with her hand, "Your grades are remarkable. Your tutors are euphoric. _'amazing reflexes. True empathy. Natural talent._' And so on"

"This is the part in which I blush?" she said in a half-hearted self-mockery.

"No." he was still serious. Sirius, serious. It was oddly hilarious to think of.

"So you came here to pray my skills.?"

"No, I came here because I might want you in my team."

In his team? Was she having to leave again? So soon? But she hasn't even finished her training yet- she still had at least another four months to go.

He apparently read her doubts. "I'll make sure you'll give your blood in this training. I'll be here every month or so, to test you. And when you're ready, I'll get you with me."

"Do we start now?"

He laughed. It was a good laugh, limpid and clear, he rose to his feet and said "it might be. What do you say?"

She immediately reached for her wand in her slacks- the only kind of clothe with a pocket so large it would hold a wand. Without breaking eye contact, she made a mental map of the muggles at the mall- not too many, as it was a Thursday, but far too many for her taste. About two hundred souls or so. The sounds around her were irregular, hence harder to design a patter. Buses on the street, the cars, people walking up and down, laughter, conversation, the muffled sounds of the ten movie rooms on her right. Low music was playing, local music, voice and guitar, they called that style Brazilian Popular Music- but it had nothing to do with what the international community called pop. It was actually stylised.

_Now she had a pattern._

Carefully walking back, keeping her mental shields down like a radio equipment, she said she told her friends she had to go.

"My dear, that was fast." Angela pointed. "You really have to tell me how you make it someday."

"Animal magnetism, sweetie."

The group laughed harder. Arien promised to make it up to them before the weekend, and Paulo mentioned a country property of a cousin where they could spend a weekend. It was hard to pass it up, but Arien made up an exam by Monday she had to study for. And with a wave she was going off the mall and into the hot outside weather.

Hunting a person in a public way was no fun. Of that Arien was certain. The fume of the cars and the scents of hundreds of passer-bys made the trail impossibly hard to find. she had barely had a glimpse of him crossing the Eufrasio Coimbra square, across the Mall's entrance, to follow. He was amazingly fast for a human- but then again, he was no mere mortal. He was a powerful wizard, an Auror, and one who had been in the run from all other Aurors in Great Britain for years.

A couple of streets forward, he had lost the visual contact. He simply disappeared. But he couldn't apparate in the middle of the street, so Arien concluded there must be another thing he might have tried. She leaned at the walls of a bakery and waited. Dozens of muggles crossed the streets before her, lost in thoughts of his little simple lives, where the greatest worry is to make your salary last the whole month and whether you should or not call Carla out tonight.

'_I have to call mother tonight, Felipe said she wasn't feeling well yesterday_...'

'_Remember to go to Ana's and get those books she borrowed_...'

"_I'm far more tired than I thought. Am I mad? Oh, god, please don't let me be mad_..." she straightened herself and went after the middle-aged man, who was trying to decide if he was mad or not . _'maybe I should really appoint a psychiatric for myself... they cure basically everything these days... imagine, to see a man turning into a dog! If this isn't crazy, I don't know what crazy is-' _That had been enough. An animagus. Black, bear-sized dog. Unfortunately the architecture of the city was against her- too many squares, buildings cutting her sight field, too much noise.

Increasing her speed she walked the whole length of the street, looking both sides in every crossing street, trying to catch a sight of either mage or animagus Arien finally had a glimpse of him, almost turning away- less than a second, in fact- when he entered the Rua XV de Novembro. That was pretty much a commercial street, and also one of the hearts of the bohemia in the city. Crowded_. Damn him._

He apparated as soon as he got into the Santos Andrade Square. She went to the same spot in which he was last seen and scanned the square – no sign of him, as expected.

This was not what she had in mind- she had planned to have a few drinks in very nice company, forget about the world's complications and the whole bloody war for a night, maybe watch a nice movie, dance a little. With a little luck she could even end the night kissing Eduardo - he was funny, charming, smart, and handsome in his own way. Not to mention she knew he fancied her.

Instead she was hunting some wizard just because he thought it would be a nice pastime. Oh, bugger. Opening her mind again- she would have a monumental migraine in the morning and be absolutely useless till the next evening- and spread her webs around, in perfect circles, increasing the perimeter slowly. If he thought she'd go any further than the state of Paraná, he was so sorely mistaken. No good grace of any tutor was worth the fabulous headache she would suffer in the morning for abusing her gift so much- she was still, pretty much, a beginner and a child.

People on the streets were eyeing her funny, and she couldn't blame them. Arien was clutching her hands tightly inside her pockets, gazing at nothing and even in her trance-like state she could feel a slight sweat on her forehead. He hadn't left too far, thought, only the Tingui park- a huge forestall area, a memorial to the Indian nations who once lived there. He was near the river. She could see the wooden bridges and gazebos built all over the park, and he leaning on one of the bridges, gazing leisurely at the ducks swimming.

She walked quickly to the Passeio Público, a huge park and open zoo nearby, where she would have peace and quiet enough to apparate. A few seconds after, she was standing before him.

"I hope you're not up for a little wizard's duel. We'd call far too much attention." She said, unable to hide the faintest edge of triumph of her voice.

"Don't be so full of yourself, lass. And we would not call that much attention – this is quite much a desert place, and even more so this late at night." True, night had fallen already. They had only the light of a few lamps, the moon and the stars.

Not that she minded the moon and the stars. Not at all.

"So?"

"So what?"

"We'll start fighting one another?"

"Not tonight."

"May I go back then?"

"Yes, you are dismissed." He didn't even turn to face her. If her head didn't ache so much, she could venture spying his mind. Oh, all right, Arien knew it wasn't exactly the most _mora_l thing to do. But sometimes... just sometimes... she just had to know. It was not evil, but rather her damned curiosity who got in the way between her abilities and her scruples. And besides, if she was going to use it to keep herself alive, she better know what she is doing, right? That takes practice. But she was tired enough as it was. With a plop, the elf disapparated. Arien would need a very strong potion for headaches, plus absolute dark and silence in her slumber for at least twelve hours. Who did they think she was, _superwoman_?

Sirius watched the red-haired vanish with a renewed wonder. When Albus called him to speak of her, he didn't believe. It sounded too good to be true. But then the sly wizard told him to test the girl, and he couldn't deny Albus that, could he? Even when he knew she would fail miserably. Another smart witch, good grades, maybe a bit of duelling skills- but those kind died loads at every single attack.

When he entered the mall where Mr. Salles – the Auror responsible for that institute- told him she'd be at, his doubts increased alarmingly. So, instead of being drowned in books, of using every spare time to practice and perfect her abilities, the girl went out with muggles.

Nothing against them, he had lived among muggles in the years he was running from the Aurors himself and he found them quite agreeable- in fact, they only lacked magic. All else was there. And then he saw her, wearing tank top and slacks, something the muggles called street wear (and reminded him strongly of Bill Weasley. He almost expected her to have a fang earring), her hair pulled up in a ponytail, chatting platitudes and drinking with her friends- a muggle among other muggles. She didn't even had an accent, which was rather curious- she was meant to have one, after living seven years in Scotland. But she sounded- genuinely sounded –like one of them. The 'R' was harsh, the 'S' was lazy, and the cadence of the words had a music of their own. As had her voice, come to think of it.

He had given her up when she turned back to say goodbye to her friends. You're not supposed to look back when you're hunting a wizard. He saw her following him across the streets, saw her confusion when he turned into an animagus- that was low and he knew it, but he had no intention of training a witch who put the task in risk because she wanted to say goodbye to muggles- obliviate them later, for pity sake!

Then she leaned in the wall, thinking. For a second, he felt like she was going to follow him, tell him she had gotten the key to his charade- her records showed a remarkable ability to solve puzzles- but she didn't. After some time, he went to the nearest deserted square and apparated. He needed some time to think of what he'd do.

He was one of the main men of the Resistance, the link between the Unspeakables and the Aurors. The separation, though necessary at the beginning, was now folly. They needed people of brains in the field and people of experience in the G.Q. and as he was thinking of what he would do with the information his spies had gathered him, she apparated behind him.

Bloody hell. How, by _Lilith's black and twisted heart_, had she found him?

Maybe the reports were right anyway. He had been travelling around the world, looking for decent warriors for months – too many losses to fight with some resemblance of a chance. They had Harry and his wife, Susan, Ron and Hermione, and Cho Chang, for the younger lot. The older was pretty much devastated by years of constant fighting, and they couldn't have more than ten percent of their senior Light Knights. True, the dark side was losing people either, and the ferocity of their attacks had the violence of an agonising beast. But they were still unpredictable, vicious, and deadly.

He hoped only his voice hadn't shown too much awe. That wouldn't do her ego any good.

He didn't want to think what having an attractive young woman would do to his other pupils.


	10. Chapter 9: Eagle Hunting

**CHAPTER 9: Eagle hunting.**  
  
_"Statues, safe boxes and painted walls no one knows what happened _

_She threw herself from the window of the fifth floor nothing is easy to understand _

_Sleep tight tonight that was just the wind outside _

_I want some caring I'll run away from home May I sleep here with you? _

_I'm scared I had a nightmare I'll only be back after three a.m. _

_My son will be named after a saint I want the prettiest name _

You gotta love the people like there was no tomorrow 

_Because if you stop and think - there isn't _

_tell me why is the sky blue explain to me the great fury of the world _

_my children look after me I live with my mother but my father visits me _

_I live on the streets, I have no one. I live anywhere. _

_I lived in so many places I've lost track I live with my parents. _

_You gotta love the people like there was no tomorrow _

_Because if you stop and think - there isn't _

_I'm a drop of water I'm a grain of sand _

_You say you parents don't understand you But you don't understand your parents _

_You blame them for everything, And that's absurd. They're children, just like you are _

_What will you be when you grow up?", Pais e Filhos (Parents and children) Legião Urbana_.  
  
**Curitiba, February of 2003.**  
  
Sirius was late. Again.  
  
It was an overwhelmingly hot afternoon of late summer. What was that, thirty-two, thirty-three degrees Celsius in the shadow? Thank God for the breeze though - it made things more bearable. The trees of the small wood kept Arien calm and content, breathing in their warmth and affection. If she felt like disappearing into wide, wild, untamed woods, she could always run to the mounts and just stay there for a day. It was one of her favourite trips - to get an old train at the train station and cross the mounts and the virgin forest to the coast cities. Arien never made it to the ocean though- hadn't built up the courage yet. So she always landed one stop before.  
  
Tanguá Park was huge, full of trees and deserted - all that she wanted. Absentmindedly she wondered if she'd have any time to visit the open environment university after her 'counselling time.' She had dressed casual- it was too damn hot to play dressy. Trousers and a white T-shirt, sneakers and she was ready to whatever it was Sirius had in store for her. Looking wistfully at the river she wondered if it would be wise - 'not, not wise. Prudent.' - to wear off her shoes and just let her tired feet on those waters.  
  
Her tutors still got to her nerves. They seemed to believe no leisure should be allowed in times such as these, when they needed their skills at their sharpest. She was the rebellious child of the lot, of course; fighting tooth and nails for her right to go out every week, receive calls on her cell phone in between classes and even - oh the blasphemy! - had a life of her own. After all, if it was so blatantly obvious they may not make it, she wanted to enjoy her time in its fullest.Then the sun set, spreading its golden and reddish glory through the sky, and she heard the faint '_pop_' of an apparition. He was pretty much - well, pretty much Sirius. A white chemise and black trousers, his coat thrown over his shoulder, held coolly by two fingers, looking as much as if he had just taken a cold shower, neat and unwrinkled. He stood there by her for a while, taking in the view before him, and she didn't hurry to take him off his reverie.  
  
"This is a place I could get used to." He said, after a long time; and she emphatically nodded her agreement.  
  
"May we start?" he asked after another minute's silence.  
  
"Yes, sir," She answered, looking up at his eyes.  
  
He turned his back to her, walking to a more secluded area - not that it was needed anyway, but better safe than sorry. Then with no warning -or so he thought, because his shoulders tensed slightly, and he took in a soft deep breath - he started throwing curses at her, attacking and blocking, breaking her defences down, exposing her failures, polishing the jewel. It went on for hours, and it was well into night when they stopped, struggling for breath.  
  
"I think there's a possibility, " he gasped, "you may be ready before April.  
  
"And then?" she demanded, still holding her wand. He had the weird habit of pretending to stop the attacks and then start all over, trying to catch her off guard.  
  
"And then you'll enter the real inferno."  
  
"_Lovely_."  
  
"I'll bring you to your new home in a few weeks. Be prepared." And with that, he apparated.  
  
"I had a feeling you'd say that." She muttered to the trees, before apparating herself to the safe spot nearest the Training Centre...  
  
''  
  
**France, April 4th of 2003**  
  
The trip had been a nightmare.  
  
Arien had argued - passionately- with Sirius for the first time about how she was supposed to get in France. He insisted on her apparating there, and she insisted on doing it muggle way. By plane. So she made a big kick-out party, stuffed her books and her clothes in a trunk -knowing too well she'd have to buy a new wardrobe by the time she landed. Her savings wouldn't last long at that rate.  
  
She picked a chair at the corridor, and took loads of drinks to numb herself, trying hard not to think there was an ocean beneath her. It had been folly, she should have built the nerve to see the goddamn sea while she was still in Brazil travel for a weekend to one of those gorgeous north- eastern beaches they all praised about, and be done with it. Instead she sat on her chair, clutching her bag, drunk herself to stupor and worried to no end. _How bloody smart_.  
  
And now, god only knows how many hours later, she lay on a not-so-fancy- hotel's bed and tried hard to think what to make of her life. Arien couldn't go on like that. She had to face it while she still had the guts. The elf wondered what would happen if she had to track a D.E. to the coast? Probably just be awestruck and get herself killed.  
  
Was that worth the risk of hearing the call of the Ocean?  
  
Making up her mind, she sent her luggage to the G.Q. in Toulouse, and asked the hostess what she recommended Arien to see.  
  
Bien. Marseille. Canes. Nice. Monaco, thought she didn't put much heart on that last advise. Clearly patriot, placing the places in her own country above all others.  
  
She decided for Canes. Côte D'Azur. Against the wise advise of the landlady the elf rented a car - but her timid, careful driving seemed to confuse the natives. Oh, bugger, Arien wasn't that good of a driver. Actually, she was a horrible driver. It took her ages to get to Canes, in a nice, reliable Volkswagen, carrying only a simple bag with her, a couple of robes, a wizarding cloak, a black Dior dress that cost more than she liked in Brazil - she hoped clothes were not that expensive around, but wasn't too hopeful- a two pieces swimsuit, a pair of jeans, two slacks and some blouses. It was going to be a short break after all - she hadn't warned Sirius of her presence in the country.

Not that Arien'd be surprised if he already knew.  
  
The very first thing she tried to find was a nice hotel - easy task, it was still the beginning of spring. She found a good Inn in which she could stay for a couple of days. It was in the Boulevard de République, and it was the closest to the ocean she'd ever been; the sear breeze was making her feel unease and rather weird. She wanted to cry. She could have run away, if she had the chance, but it was far too late for that now. Then she changed into her swimsuit and walked down the street to the beach.  
  
The walk took her a great deal of time - both because Arien had to beware the absolutely crazy French driving style, and because she was not quite herself right then. After forty-five minutes, she got the glimpse of it.  
  
Huge, proud, beautiful, dazzling blue. It was all she ever thought it would be and more. Arien was so much in awe a car almost run over her at the very last avenue, the Boulevard de la Croisette. She kept on walking thought, not stopping till the water licked her feet, still in her sandals.  
  
Arien was in love. She had been a fool, but then again she was often a fool. Far too impulsive, too curious, too reckless, too volatile. May be it had been a mistake, but it no longer mattered. The ocean was before her, in all its supercilious glory, roaring softly like a spoilt king, mysterious, enthralling, fascinating.  
  
_'Beware three things in this life, my child'_; her father had said often to her, even before she had the ability to comprehend what he was talking about. He didn't mind- repetition would mark his words in her heart like hot metal against flesh; ' _the king, the ocean and love. Be specially wary if they smile at you.'_ Glauco Antonius had been nobody's fool.  
  
And then, alone in the clear morning and her soul naked before the sea, she raised her voice in an old song, one her mother sang often, and she knew her aunt might sing it too.  
  
Then she cried her heart out. Arien was overwhelmed by love, longing, and hurt. It was like a religious conversion. She knew she would never go to Valinor, and honestly, for the moment, she couldn't care less. All the Valar could go to hell for all that she cared. And nevertheless the Sea called her. She heard its song, deep, ancient, wise and visceral like life itself. The elves believed it was the echoes of the first Song, the Song of the Ainur who created the world by the direction of Eru, kept in the deep abysms of the oceans. It might be. The problem was that she didn't believe in the Valar any longer. She had a deep unsettling feeling, at first. Something unknown and scary, that she tried to bury deep within herself in fear of what it might unleash. First herself.  
  
Then the Acromantulas.  
  
What, or who, after all she'd seen and lived, could assure her the so- called Valar were not but powerful wizards who travelled through the Portal to Middle-earth many millennia ago? It wasn't as if she had any testimony other than of the elves- easily impressed by people who were able to cast light from the darkness, - but that was an easy spell, any first year could perform... shaping the earth? A good transfiguration master could handle that with a hand in his back.  
  
Creating dwarves... a good obliviate spell, and they'd believe whatever you want them to.  
  
But Arien felt the presence of Eru there. Right there, all her doubts about the divine were vanished as if they never were. All the dark thoughts she had when she was half crazy in the inner solitude of her room, overwhelmed and claustrophobic, gone in a heartbeat- with no real logical argument, no scientific proof, but the soothing, earth-foundations-strong-certainty that bloomed in her heart. There was Eru, and He loved her lots.  
  
She would be all right. It would all be well in the end. She just knew it.

''  
  
**Toulouse, France, two weeks later.**  
  
Arien had had to pull herself off the coast. Literally. Return the car and take a bus to Toulouse. There had been nobody to pick the elf there, of course. So, she just called the French equivalent of a Knight's bus- the ministry would pay for her travelling, though which Ministry was not quite clear. Arien wondered if they had reached some sort of pact.  
  
Under her Auror training, she hadn't been told much. They were the baddies, they were downright mean, and they played dirtier than dirt. Period. Due to her - this far still - secret abilities she knew that both sides were drawing to exhaustion. Wizards had a long lifespan- but now one could hardly see an old wizard in their wizarding communities. They were dying in lots. Muggles were scared to death, not a single idea of what was going on. Poor dears- the hypothesis of a war was increased to stratospheric levels after the attacks of September 11th of 2001. The forces of _'peace_' were hunting whomever they could blame, reliving old grudges and opening new opportunities for war... for petrol, for pride, for bravado, for doing something even if they were not really sure of what that something was- or if it would be effective, or rather arise more grudges.  
  
She decided she would apparate next time. That goddamn trip took more toil than she liked to admit.  
  
Hogwarts had been quite much a medieval, gothic castle. Impressive, imposing, magnificent.  
  
The Boinas Verdes Auror training centre had been warm, cosy, and homely.  
  
The Palace was different. It was... well. How could one say it? It reminded her of Draco: impeccable, aristocratic, elegant and always irreprehensible. Renaissance style, she'd venture. The palace itself was a bit far away from the city, in a strikingly beautiful estate, but you could reach it in a half an hour car's ride.  
  
She threw her backpack on her left shoulder, feeling rather self-conscious in such a formal ambient. Dammit, she doubted she'd felt this ill at ease if she went straight into a Lorien's pomp ball - assuming they had such a thing. She climbed the stairs before the main doors warily, and stopped before a beautifully sculptured statue of some Greek goddess. She didn't really care which one. Not that she didn't feel drained to arts, she did, but she sorely lacked either the time or the patience to go deep into studying it. It was far more useful to her to bury herself into ancient and Modern Curses, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, Astronomy, Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, Comparated History of Magic, Poisons, Potions, Logic, Combat Strategy and such than art theory.  
  
She was obviously meant to give the statue a password. This was no mere wizarding building, this was the spine of the resistance in the Mediterranean sea, as much as Wales was the spine for the British islands and Switzerland, Germany, Iceland; Malasartes was the spine for Latin America and so on. _But what the hell was the password?_  
  
"Liberté" said a voice behind the door. She groaned. That much for impressing your boss at you first day's work. She wondered if she was really a Ravenclaw. She couldn't think of any other Eagle who got into that much shit as she did.  
  
_And guess who opened the door?_  
  
"You're late." he said, looking rather elegant in dark grey robes. What's with dark men and dark clothes? Couldn't he dress an unsuspecting baby blue for a change? Or red? Or orange? Or...  
  
"Arien, we don't have all day..." Sirius brought her back to reality, secretly pleased she had been staring. She didn't skip a heartbeat from then on, passing through him as if she'd lived in the Palace all her life. **((Consider cutting this))**She had buried her mother's lessons in etiquette and composure under years of cool practicality and the last months of joyful, detached, informal behaviour- even when her passion about magic and learning hadn't decreased one bit, her attitude towards the world, life, death, friendship had. She was no longer the same and she knew it. It excited and frightened her, the swirling speed in which her life and personality were changing- the pace of humans. Even if she wasn't one of them in body, they were slowly claiming her soul. And despite all of it, despite her faded jeans and very common blouse, she could enter the palace like an elven princess; her head high in the air, the grace and aura of one borne to command and to be followed (By all the stars in the sky above, anything but that! She couldn't think of anything which scared her more, Voldemort included.), her movements fluid and cat-like.** ((End of cutting section))**  
  
Sirius had no choice but notice how the male employees of the Resistance seemed to be drawn to the redhead as moths to the flame. He had not met a single man who had not turned to stare at her, at least. The woman was tall, beautiful and athletic and a man had to have a damned strong personality and figure not to be towered when she pulled her Princess facade. But Sirius was both. With long purposeful strides he matched paces with her, hell bent in showing to that brilliant but inexperienced and rather conceited young Auror who was the man in charge there. He silently led her to her rooms, and then she gasped, her façade dropping immediately.

It was nothing like any room she'd ever occupied before. It was huge, ostentatious and luxurious – most of her things had been sent over prior to her departure from Brazil and were already unpacked and organized in her wardrobe. She had a huge bedroom, a bathroom with an adjoining dressing room and even a little living room to herself, which would work as a working room as well, in where her dozen hundreds of books were already placed in alphabetical order, flowers in a vase over a little tea table, some armchairs, a sofa and a nice hearth, as long as her desk. Two or three people could have lived there - or her whole female class, in fact. And comfortably. She just wasn't used to having all that room for herself.  
  
He mused her astonishing look as he watched her- she still looked the same she did when he first saw her in Hogwarts, the last class before it was closed for the war. God only knew the havoc it would be when it was over- all those kiddos who missed education and would have to begin late. Misfortunes of war.  
  
Sirius tried to remember how old his charge was. Eighteen, nineteen? So goddamn young- still looked like sixteen or seventeen, her face still somewhat cheek-rounded with youth. Yet they needed her, they needed every skilled Auror they could put their hands on. Arien was brilliant- make no mistake. Hermione was brilliant too, even more, and far more down-to-earth, but the red-haired had an innate talent for hunting people down that was appalling. She often reminded him of Dumbledore- as if she were omniscient. But then again, her age shown in the way she hushed when she needed to slow down. She sorely lacked the experience. Hermione was off to Russia, anyway, hunting Death Eaters with Ron, Harry and Susan, his wife, plus a team of another four Aurors. His heart ached for those young lives risking their necks- lives he knew, lives he loved, lives that were familiar for him. Lives who were family.  
  
He had this eight amazing scholars, who had all the potential to become Aurors Voldemort himself would fear. It was necessary. Dumbledore was dying, not now, of course, but he wouldn't last too long- another decade, with luck. With lots of luck. Albus was already past 170 years, and that was a memorable age, even for a wizard. They desperately needed to prepare the younger generations, make sure they could go on their own.  
  
"Be ready in two hours. We'll meet at the Rouge Saloon and start getting acquainted with one another." The tips of his lips twitched ... two girls, six boys; it would be hell to rule those hormone-driven individuals. It was a tough job, but someone needed doing it, and Leal was holding the strategic part far better than he did.  
  
She dazzled him an iron-melting smile. The girl obviously had no idea of the power she held. "I'll be there in one hour."  
  
"Good. See you then." He closed the door behind him, and quick as a lighting bolt, she searched her dorm up and down and back and forth for signs of curses or hexed objects. In twenty minutes she had been through it, and picket a carefully chosen dark red dress robe for herself. A quick shower was all she needed.  
  
''

**((Consider cutting this section))**

The red room wasn't red. It merely had lots of crimsons details in its decoration. Oval, with one pulpit in the further back, across the French doors. Ten or more armchairs laid in a semi-circle, one of them standing right before the pulpit. Some very nice canvas on the walls, Arien was surprised to realise those were muggle paintings; and big windows that showed the garden.  
  
She picked the second chair to the right of the head chair. It would still be close to the leader, without being too obvious, and give her space to watch her fellows unnoticed. Exactly fifty minutes after she entered the room, other young wizards entered the room, carefully picking their chairs and sitting as nonchalantly as they could. Arien stifled a smile. Same old games, new players.  
  
On her left was Marc, from Beauxbatons - another dark beauty. Skipping the empty head armchair she found the only other female of the group, Marie, who was German, graduated in Durmstrang and went to Auror training in the renowned Abu-Simbel Institute of Magic. Blonde with brown eyes, now that was unusual in the Nordic pattern. Skipping another chair there was Paolo, Italian from Milan, dark hair and eyes, as well, but a bit shorter than Marc. Two inches, actually. Alexei was Russian and also from Durmstrang. Icy blue eyes and brown hair, and a good six feet tall. Pedro was Portuguese, graduated in Andalusia Academy of magic, honey coloured hair and brown eyes with flickers of gold. Miguel was from Catalonia, Spain, also graduated in Andalusia - and seemingly he was a friend of Pedro's, or at least a very friendly acquaintance. And finally Nicholas, from good old enchanting Greece, who graduated in Istanbul. The Kirin school of magic.

And her.  
  
While she mused the origins and peculiarities her blasted tutor entered the room, so full of energy and joye de vivre she wanted to strangle him. He quickly accommodated himself in the leader's chair and took an impressively big file from his inner pockets- it had to be magic. To enlarge the pockets or to diminish the size of the file, she couldn't tell without a closer look.  
  
And then he began his memorized speech about how they were supposed to be each other's family from that day on, blah, blah, blah. Cover one another's back, yadda, yadda, yadda. After fifteen minutes of melodramatic bullshit- really didn't become him, he was a far more restrained man, Arien thought unkindly; he finally entered in the part of the speech that interested her: the situation of the war as it was today and their role on it. They'd have another month to get in sync, and then they'd be released on the field to hunt down Death Eaters, always seeking one clue as to where Voldemort had buried himself into, and when the G.Q. had any big operation in mind they'd call several of those cell units to attack together.  
  
"Question?" All shook their heads negatively. "You are dismissed." Sirius said, absentmindedly, and they left the room. Arien didn't really want to talk to anybody just yet, thought, she felt rather moody and not up to being social. So the elf just stood outside the door, listening their conversations as the group made their way back through the corridor. The hell she'd say a word about who she was and where she came from.  
  
She glanced towards the red room and saw - or felt - him sprawled in the armchair, all act laid down, as he relaxed a little in those fifteen minutes of peace. In a few moment's Angie would call him and report what news they had about the missions in Russia, Sweden, Scotland, Nigeria, Peru and Canada. Then he'd have a Floo meeting with Dumbledore, Leal, and dozens of Ministry's representatives and their Unspeakables. If he could at least steal those Unspeakables to the front, those privileged minds would do the cause a world of good. But of course the ministries would hear none of it. They were losing time, people, supplies. They were loosing the war.  
  
His hand reflexively reached for his wand while he spun to grab and face whoever it was that got so close of him. When his mind recognised the figure however, the anger he'd bottled up exploded.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he shouted. Her face remained carefully blank- from time to time she could manage to do that, he registered - while she answered.  
  
"You're obviously too distressed to take any important decisions today- and it's also obvious you'll have to make them. So I'm just relieving some of your stress. This is an ancient form of magic... we call it massage."  
  
He groaned and complied, but stood still as her hands massaged his scalp, neck and shoulders. Half an hour later, he was feeling rather drowsy, and extremely relaxed- too relaxed perhaps. But he was saved from absolute humiliation by the hearth- the meeting would begin anytime soon.

Arien was not in the room when he tried to shoo her out.  
**((End of cutting section))**

''

**((Actually, consider cutting this as well...))**  
**Fez, Maraca. 12th of May of 2003**  
  
Breathe, Arien thought. Just breathe.  
  
Damn the breathing, those frigging bastards sent her ahead. Again. She was so pissed she wanted to use the real F-word. So there she was, preparing herself to have one hell of a headache in the next fifteen hours, because those stupid gits were so damn perfect to use their own skills and rotate the riskiest position of all among themselves. No. it had to be the f perfect Arien darling.  
  
They had gone along nicely at first, really did. They were all worthy, witty, smart and damn powerful. Maybe the whole group was too homogeneous. But when Sirius told them they could start their tasks, locate and track and hunt , it all went down the hill. she could live with it if they tried a bit harder, thought. Leaving all the burden on her shoulders was no fun at all. The elf decided they ought to have a nice little chat as soon as the group came back into the Q.G., and she'd see to it.

And if they didn't oblige... She was one of the best Aurors the light side had and if they couldn't provide her a half decent team to work with, she might as well work alone. Or else she wouldn't even reach her thirties- and not because of the baddies.  
  
What Arien wouldn't give to get a transfer to Hermione's group. Oh, heaven.  
  
The city was a living hell. Teseus wouldn't have found his way out this labyrinth with or without a rope. Streets were narrow, crowded, filled with goods for sale. One couldn't find one's own shadow in that market.  
  
The elf tracked the Death Eaters and apparated half a mile behind them- above an old man, whom she quickly obliviated. Her _lovely team- mates_ would tease her to no end, but what did they expect in such a narrow and crowded way? Even magic has its limits!  
  
She was pretending to be trying out some veils and jewels, while she took a magic mirror and gave the coordinates. They took three minutes to get there! _Bloody murder_!  
  
Arien didn't quit the mission and the hunt because she forced herself to think of what might happen if those lunatics lost the Death Eaters. An hour later, nursing a migraine and a sore leg she ordered Alexis to take the surviving D.E. to the Aurors camping so he could be interrogated. Right now Arien didn't give a damn if he'd live or die. She was much more preoccupied with her own place in the war.  
  
A couple of hours later she sat fuming in Sirius' office. Her tem mates told her she was over reacting. The hell she was. The fact she was a good tracker didn't mean she'd be the only one risking her life. Her _almost eternal life_, mind you.  
  
He sat there looking extremely pissed by her outburst, but she didn't back down. For nothing in the world she'd back down when it was up to her life, for some snobby cowards. No way.  
  
"We here work in teams, Arien." Sirius told her icily. She could tell it hadn't been a lovely day for him either.  
  
"Good of you to let me know, but you'd rather inform them!" she spat venomously.  
  
"_Arien_" he finally lost it. That damn redheaded was absolutely impossible to deal with.  
  
"I'm not kidding, Sirius."  
  
"You certainly behave like a child."  
  
"Do I? Really? Is it wrong then to hold on to all that crap you told us about watching one another's back? For chrissake, Sirius! I went in the den alone. _Frigging alone_! And when I told them where the targets where, they arrived four minutes later, like it was some bloody tea party!" her voice was ringing louder and louder. "If they can't cope with working as a team- a real team, mind you, then you really don't want to know where I want them to go. Pair me with someone else- preferentially someone who knows what the hell they are doing, 'cause I don't want to get out killed."  
  
"Death is-"  
  
"Just because I might die doesn't mean I'm _jumping to it_, Sirius!"  
  
He breathed loudly and laboriously. She had burned her bridges. There was no way she could work in sync with them in the immediate future, and they could not allow any of them to be lost- not if it could be helped. The others were cold and indifferent towards her, if not hostile and vengeful. No, that team was out of consideration.  
  
What the hell had gone wrong? He had picked up the very best he could find

"We don't complete one another, we compete with one another. And I really got pissed up when I didn't find anyone watching my back. I want someone I can count with, Sirius;" her piercing gaze bore into his own; she suddenly looked much older than she was, almost as old as he felt. "That's not a luxury, it's a necessity."  
  
"All right then", he gave in, wondering what on earth was going on and what he would do of her" you cans stick with me for the time being. Then we'll try to accommodate you somewhere."  
  
"Thanks."   
  
"Anytime."  
  
He looked so drained and tired, leaning against the wall. And yet he was still irradiating power and self-assurance, his mind still racing even in his slumber, combining, testing, imagining, solving several puzzles in his mind. She was too tired to try reading anything, and for the very first time she didn't want to intrude; because it hinted at something deep inside of her, something she didn't want to examine. In spite of her casual flirting with men her age, she didn't feel as attracted as with more mature men. Maybe it was a soft cry of her elven inheritance, a longing for someone who was wise and understanding. Maybe a lame attempt of hers to replace a father she missed terribly. Or maybe she just wanted some stability and comfort in a hostile environment. Whatever it was, it was quite strong- and painful. Looking seventeen certainly didn't appeal on her attractiveness on mature men, certainly not on the kind of mature men she wanted to attract.  
  
He should be almost forty years old, but didn't look it. He was cool, and self-controlled, introspective really. But he didn't play any games- he would either say the truth or not to say anything at all. He was a man who called the responsibility to him, who cared, who wasn't afraid of doing the right thing.  
  
Losing herself on the feelings of the moment, she reached out for him and pulled his head down in a lingering kiss. Soft, yet not too soft; the perfect balance between sweetness and passion. A kiss she could savour for hours.  
  
"Stop" He choked after a while, startled at their behaviour. "This cannot happen."  
  
Her tired mind took some time to process the information. "Why not?"  
  
"I'm responsible for you before the Ministry."  
  
_So what?_  
  
"Oh. Well, I better go have some rest then."  
  
"Yes." He responded, still trying to calm his breath. "This cannot happen."  
  
She was too tired to intrude, and didn't want to. But she did wonder if he was telling that to her or to himself.

**((end of cutting section))**''**Lethbridge, Alberta- Canada. April 1st of 2003.**  
  
Oh, man, Harry was tired of that.  
  
Hotels, embassies, Ministries' cottages; all over the world. When would he be able to get a place of his own?  
  
Thank god for Suzie, then. He'd never even dreamt in asking for half of the things she endured to be with him. In the beginning they had fought pretty bad because he wanted her out of the fire line- but you just don't tell a Hufflepuff to stay back and safe while you save the world.  
  
He found out that Hermione had been awfully reasonable compared to Suzie.  
  
And yet there they were, in another foreign country, in another wizarding hiding place, after another couple of crazy D.E. they were too smart to stay gathered in one place only. From time to time they met in some part of the globe to schedule their own attacks, and then disapparated as quickly as possible. They had too little people and resources to get them all at once. After all, most of the wizarding community were sensibly on the run.  
  
Which, of course, made everything harder. The Resistance had not people enough. They must be defeating them, slowly and certainly; but they were still losing their own soldiers like flies.  
  
And now that one other little blow on his already overburdened shoulders. Not that he wasn't happy- in the contrary. He was euphoric. In spite of everything, Harry felt he hadn't been this... this fulfilled, this whole, ever before. Not when Sirius explained him about Peter and asked his godson to live with him, not when they won the House Cup. Goodness, not even when he got married.  
  
The point is, how would he protect his wife and his unborn children from the chaos?  
  
Suzie would have to listen to him this time. They couldn't risk it anymore. She would have to find refuge in one of the G.Q. and stay there with their baby till the world was a bit safer. But for the Potters, the world would only be safe when Voldemort was defeated.  
  
Edwiges flied through the window bringing him another carefully attached letters. Mail was being severely surveyed those days. He'd got a letter from Ron and Mione, who had gone to Wyoming, to see the Yellowstone national park, relax and enjoy some very well deserved rest. Harry wondered if his friends would ever got married- Molly was ripping her hair out for her little Ronnie _'living in sin'_, but they didn't really mind it, and Hermione would use a fruit hat on her head a la Carmen Miranda before she did something of that importance just because someone else wanted her too. So far, they were doing awfully well, thank you for asking.

In the end, maybe making it official wouldn't be necessary for them.  
  
Arthur had been killed at the Ministry. They had been stupid for keeping their top heads in a so well known place. They should have known better. They should have moved to a more secret place. Now they lost one of the most supportive of their leaders. Unfortunately they couldn't have a decent funeral. It would be too much of a temptation target.

Ginny and Draco. Now that was something that shocked him to no end. Only a couple of years ago they admitted they had been seeing each other since back in Hogwarts, and carried their affair in secrecy till she left school and moved in with him. Just that nobody really knew she had moved with him- they al thought she was only hiding under the wings of the Ministry somewhere safe. They took their time preparing the field, letting Draco get the trust of the family, then they went out and gave everyone a heart attack by saying they'd get married in a month. One can well imagine what Molly Weasley thought about the hurry, but the truth is that they had waited far too long.  
  
Never underestimate Virginia Elizabeth Weasley - Malfoy. Nor Draco August Malfoy, either. _Divine dragon - his name really didn't help much in the modesty field_. Anyone who kept a secret from Molly Weasley for almost seven years deserves your admiration.  
Forgetting his own worries for the moment, Harry reached out to write letters for his friends- his family.  
  
''**Vienna, Austria, April 15th of 2003.**  
  
Time to go back to the big bad ugly world outside.  
  
Ginny didn't want to get out of her bed- it was so comfortable, so cosy, so warm with his body wrapped around her own. What time was it anyway? Six? Seven? It was far too early to be up, for God's sake! She would wake up later. Yes. She would go back to her wonderful dreams of her de-gnoming the garden with Fred, George and Ron, her father messing about some new muggle _'wonderful thing!'_ her mother bossing them around, Charlie with his big grin making fun of them, while Percy tried to repress his laughter, and Bill destroying tables on the yard.  
  
Yes, that was wonderful.  
  
And then it hit her- he wouldn't be in the garage ever again. In her slumber she forgot it. He was dead. Wasn't it supposed to fade in time?  
  
Sensing her distress, Draco held her tighter. He was still the most handsome man she'd ever met, even with that dark hair and contact lenses he had to use every waking hour. They both had had to dye their hairs, unfortunately - they called too much attention. Hers was now a chocolate brown.  
  
In all those years together, he'd never shown any sign of regret for leaving his parents, his family, and his life behind. She certainly couldn't have asked for a greater proof of love. He must be the second most-wanted young wizard among the D.E.  
  
The Unspeakables, from the now Global department of Mysteries, under the lead of Albus Dumbledore, were as hated as the Aurors or more. The heads behind every attack, security plans, protection programs and war strategy in general, they had no hope for a quick execution if caught. The hatred have been quite well-shown when they got hold of Remus Lupin eighteen months ago. They forced him to contaminate several of the Death Eaters and then killed him slowly.

Harry had been devastated.  
  
The situation was a bit more desperate than they let people outside the Light army know. They had not many people with skill; experience and talent to lead them along till the end. Harry was a very charismatic figure, but he didn't have the means to coordinate a worldwide operation. Sirius maybe. Leal, Jean-Pierre, Ali Abdul, Richter.  
  
But if that took that long, and Dumbledore's strength finally vanished before that big enemy we all face someday; who would raise to lead them?  
  
"This is too early for such dark thoughts, darling." Draco mumbled. "Go back to sleep. This is Holyday."  
  
"I wasn't having any dark thoughts," she protested.  
  
"Yes you were," he said playfully, his eyes wide open now. His steel gray eyes, as he hadn't wear on the lenses yet." You had a big ugly frown on your forehead."  
  
"I didn't."  
  
"You did." She had been down ever since the attack to the ministry. Or more accurately, since the attack to the British Bureau of the Global Government of Magic. An extreme measure, taken in face of the absolute inability of the ministries to take care of the mess on their own. Face it as a tyranny - but the tyrant was Dumbledore, one who didn't love Power, and was certainly going to restore the order of things after they got the house organized. It had been a risky- and desperate - move; but so far things had been working well. Bureaucracy had diminished to imaginary levels, actions were taken promptly and effectively and, for the first time in a long, long time, Draco actually hoped it would be over soon.  
  
She made him a pout. Lovely, wonderful Ginny, a lioness in lamb clothes. The perfect match for his own slyness.  
  
He crawled closer to her and started to attack that little sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulders - and her response was immediate, arching her body to meet his in greater length.  
  
"Mmmmm, this is too early for..."  
  
"What am I, a vampire?" he inquired, biting her flesh in playful, lingering motions. She roamed her own hands on his back and he forgot all previous thoughts of the war and the Ministry. They still had plenty of time before they'd have to get up.  
  
''

**  
Prague, Czech Republic, June 7th of 2003.**  
  
Not a month had passed and Sirius already wanted to kill her.  
  
First her absolute _hysteria_ when he told her to dye her hair. One would think he'd tried to kill her or something. He told her a light blonde would suit her features better- she would look really great in blonde hair; but again, the fool insisted on black. Well, she still looked stunning as a brunette, but that was hardly the point. She insisted on wearing her own clothes- far too provocative for his taste; to go out every now and then into the night of whatever city they were in at the moment, returning to the G.Q. almost at dawn. And - absurdly weird in a young lady her age- she would have a nap of 45 minutes and wake up fresh, rested and ready for a battle. Now that was something he didn't understand.  
  
But couldn't she agree with him for _one _goddamned time?  
  
They were quietly crossing the Wenceslas Square, to meet the very head of the Light Army, the head of the Order of the Phoenix , Albus Dumbledore. She had- again - insisted she had to be with him. Not that he minded, she was unbelievable good at spotting danger before it even had time to appear. He had learnt better than to discuss with her when she said: "there's danger here". Or "a threat is drawing near", or any other dramatic line with one effect: get ready 'cause we have a dark wizard near. He couldn't really blame his last trainee team for wanting her to go ahead every time- Arien was just that goddamn good.  
  
He hated it when people said they looked like siblings. Or worse, parent and child. Thought he _'could'_ be her father.  
  
The day was clear and hot- not overwhelmingly hot like in Brazil where she had buried herself and made him go to check her development every two or three weeks. They were both wearing muggle light clothes, jeans and shirt, in his case, and in her case a light summer dress, held by spaghetti straps and down to her knees. In his opinion -which she wouldn't hear, no matter what he did- she had to dress in something more discreet. He couldn't spot a single man in those streets that hadn't turned to watch her with greedy eyes. It was a mission, for pity sake, not a fashion exposition!  
  
They finally reached the building, identified themselves and entered. Good. There he wouldn't have to watch over her all the time. Or not. Wasn't it Marcel Duras flirting with his agent? For pity sake couldn't she stop for a bloody minute?  
  
"Arien!" he cried for her in the middle of the hall, not really caring about how many bureaucrat bastards got startled, "We must get going."  
  
She nodded at him, in her most irritatingly knowing way, and turned to say goodbye to her flirt. Sirius just stood there, fuming, but trying his damned best not to show it. He couldn't bear to sink that low. When they entered Albus provisory room- the good old wizard was always moving, as not to endanger either himself or the people around him - he was planning the best way of killing her slowly. Tracker or no tracker, he would knock her out.  
  
"Hello, children. How are you doing today?" the old wizard said, sitting behind a huge oak door. "Lemon drops?"  
  
And then the unthinkable happened. She cried. His mischievous, clever, fiery tempered, efficient hunter broke down and cried. She was hugging Dumbledore so fast he couldn't say how she got there to save his life.  
  
A good couple of seconds later, she pulled herself together, laughing and wiping her tears.  
  
He cleared his throat.  
  
"Dumbledore," he began, not quite sure of what to make of his unpredictable partner "we must discuss the next steps of the offensive."  
  
"Oh yes, " Dumbledore went on his mode wise-and-powerful; "this must end quickly, Sirius. We don't have much time left."  
  
Sirius knew exactly what he meant, and by the way so did Arien. She took out of her handbag a notebook and began writing furiously, as they talked and planned about next strikes, informations gathered in the Aurors torture room (a war is a war is a war). Most of the time- oh miracle- she kept her mouth shut, only interrupting here and there to make questions, or bring them back to trail in case she decided they were loosing their tracks, or in the very end to ask for her friends from Hogwarts. Some of her classmates had died, but that was hardly unexpected. He was really surprised to hear Molly Weasley had sent her a couple of sweaters - for past Christmas gifts. No mail had been able to reach her, as she was under Auror training and those places were as secret or more than Wizarding schools. In the end she asked the pile of presents and letters to be delivered in her quarters at the Palace - they lived there most of the time, and it was pointless to rent a flat.  
  
"Where can we apparate?" she asked when they were outside the building.  
  
"Just around that corner, we have a wizarding street. We can apparate from there." He replied.  
  
"Do you have any team for me yet?"  
  
"Not really. Most of the teams are forged when the Aurors leave the training. The next graduation will be in a couple of months. Until there, you're stuck with me."  
  
"It's not that bad, really." She grinned.  
  
"Not?" he arched an eyebrow and smiled, in spite of himself.  
  
"No." Serious now. "Do you think you'd be all right if I could go to Rome tonight?"  
  
"Why?" he didn't like the way his voice sounded. Did not like it at all.  
  
"Today is a Saturday."  
  
"And?"  
  
"This is my day off."  
  
"We don't have days off in a war, Arien." He said, already knowing it was a lost battle. Ever since she put her feet out of Hogwarts, there was no power on Earth who could keep her locked anywhere. He thought even Voldemort would fail in keeping her imprisoned.  
  
"Save it, babe. We both know that I do have the right of going out once in a while."  
  
"Do we?"  
  
"Yes, _we do_. By the way, next time you ask your agents to follow me, do tell them to be discreet. I hardly believe we've made it this far with such visible spies." Her statement was supercilious and conceited, like herself. Damn, the girl could be a real bitch from time to time. "I understand that in the light of previous episodes everybody is suspected of being a double agent till absolute proof of their fidelity, but I do want privacy sometimes."  
  
"You are working with one of the most important leaders of the Resistance, and have access to vital information. You don't really expect us to let you loose, do you?" he replied coolly. It took much of the self-control he acquired in both his Auror career and in Azkaban to keep his voice expressionless and blank.  
  
"Modest, are we?"  
  
"Water seeks its own level, my darling."  
  
"_Touché_." A laugh. "But I am going to Rome tonight. Go see a play. Or a concert. Or dance. Haven't decided yet."  
  
"Jesus, woman, is that all you can think about?"  
  
"Why not? I've done my work; I can enjoy myself a little. Tomorrow we can be dead. A very wise wizard told me to enjoy what I have. And I lived by his words ever since." Who did it was obvious. He couldn't compete with Dumbledore. And yet he didn't like it when she left the palace, alone, and jumped in the bohemia of whatever city she had picked for the night. The girl was a vampire, sucking all the night could offer.  
  
But he didn't like the idea of her alone in the night. Not that she couldn't take care of herself. It was just that...  
  
She looked so young and innocent. Young she was, but innocent... was there anything she took seriously but the war? That, thank goodness, she took rather seriously. They had been joining random tasks of Auror teams all over Europe and there wasn't a single mistake he could point out. Her reflexes were amazing, her intuition prophetic. But once she went off the fields, she was just another girl. Immorally smart, impossibly headstrong, reckless, stupidly proud, full of life and mischief.  
  
She reminded him of himself, so many years ago.  
  
And his younger self loose in Rome would be Apocalypse.  
  
By the way she swayed her hips when she walked and tossed her shoulder length raven hair while she talked, she wouldn't do any different. If the kiss she gave him a month ago was any sign, she was a force to be reckoned. He had a hard time on keeping his cool, detached, emotionless facade near her. And he did not like the way she flirted with other men. But what did he expect, that she would wait for him patiently till that damn war was over so they could see if they wanted to pursue a relationship?  
  
She flashed him her best smile. "See you in the morning, boss."  
  
He found it very hard to sleep that night. She came back to the palace at seven in the morning, sweated, dishevelled and absolutely gleaming. Then she went to her room to sleep for a while and at eight o'clock she was in the Intelligence office, helping him in a meeting with Unspeakables where they would pass the instructions Dumbledore had given them, and start making arrangements for the final attack.''  
  
**Dublin, Ireland. July 15th of 2003.**  
  
Arien didn't even argued about going to explore the city, which was odd. Sirius walked straight to the bar that held the entry to their meeting point, and led them both into an imposingly tall and wide building. The man before them, their contact and guide for the night, opened the door and they finally reached a room that made the Great Hall look stuffy and small.  
  
There were hundreds of wizards there, if not thousands. They were separated in delegations according to their origin country or blocks of countries. They could spot at least fifty delegations. Noiselessly their guide took them to one of the areas, marked in red ink on the floor.  
  
Dumbledore entered through a hidden door and walked straight to the table in the centre, and sat in a tall chair that made sure all the room could see him, and he could see them all.  
  
"My friends;" he spoke, his voice effortlessly carried through the room, " time has come in which we cannot remain as we are any longer. Time has come in which we have to strike back."  
  
Arien frowned, and Sirius could almost hear her thinking. For a second he thought he _had 'heard_' her thinking! - _'And what do you think we've been doing, Dumbledore? Playing wizard's chess?'_  
  
Apparently she wasn't alone in that line of thought. Several people began arguing in muffled whispers.  
  
"Silence!" his voice echoed again, and people obliged. "For many years now, we have kept ourselves in as much security as we could muster. We hunted them, we took hold of them from time to time, we interrogated and we protected ourselves. In the meantime, we are watching our families and friends being killed everyday. This cannot go on: we must strike now, take advantage that they are weakened by our attacks and vanish them for once. If we do not do so now, when we have the opportunity, time will come in which we ourselves will be much too weak to strike the final blow. And then, my friends, what will happen with the wizarding community?"  
  
The question hung in the air. The answer was obvious: die.  
  
"We took hold of a very high Death eater not too long ago;" he continued, after the dramatic pause "which is very close to Voldemort." Several wizards gasped and flinched by his name. "And we have replaced him by one of our very own faithful knights. He is now inside the den, passing us information that will allow a reasonably safe hit in the death eaters and Voldemort, giving us the opportunity to rip them from the face of Earth. His minions are diminishing, thanks to our constant efforts, but now we have a chance to end it all!"  
  
The deafening sound of a thousand wizards arguing hurt her ears, and she clasped her hands over them. Arien didn't have to be a genius to put two and two together and come out with four. Who was the only knight crazy enough to enter the den as a double agent? Who was the one with experience enough to have a minimal chance of escaping alive? Who'd be the first to volunteer?  
  
Her favourite Potions master, of course.  
  
Dumbledore's voice rose in the air again, clearly replying to someone.  
  
"This is a war and we are soldiers. What if tomorrow the war is over? Isn't that worth fighting for? Isn't that worth dying for?"  
  
The delegations argued some more, then offered their help - the earthling equivalent of offering a Lord your sword in Middle-earth. After agonising fifty minutes, it was all settled, and she wandered around the delegations greeting friends and acquaintances from throughout the world. Some wizards from Boinas Verdes were there, some of her old Hogwarts mates. Harry was there, with his wife, who was five months pregnant, Ron and Hermione, and Carl and Sarah and McGonagall; and Ron introduced her to Bill Weasley, and some wizards he had done random tasks with.  
  
She absolutely forgot the handsome dark wizard who brought her into that crazy place for the rest of the night. She was too relieved and happy about seeing her old friends again.  
  
''  
Dumbledore quote Morpheus in Matrix 2 reloaded (?)- yes, I know it's not exactly his style, but it was too good an opportunity to miss!  
And the credits:  
Lethbridge: http:www.city.lethbridge.ab.ca/profile/02b.htm (not that I had used, but.)  
  
Czech Republic: ?id=81&cid=10429&subcategory=Tou ristAttractionsandSightseeing&subcat=TouristAttractionsandSightseeing& city=Prague&cont=Europe&contlink=europe.asp&category=VisitingtheCity&cat=V isitingtheCity&subcatid=17&stateProvince=&country=CzechRepublic  
  
Canada: Curitiba I described by my very own memory.

France was a bit harder. I got my info from these sites: #cann for the info about Cannes. I got a map of it at   
  
Got the info about Toulouse at: http:www.mairie- toulouse.fr/ANGLAIS/LivingInToulouse/IndexBienvenue.htm  
  
Marroch I got out of a recent soap opera, which was an absolute success-, and I shamelessly assume I watched every single piece of it- called , in English, The Clone.  



	11. Chapter 10: The thorny way to hell

**Chapter ten: The thorny way to hell  
  
**_"Why do you have to go and make things so complicated?  
I see the way you're  
Acting like you're somebody else gets me frustrated  
Life's like this, you  
And you fall and you crawl  
And you break and you take  
What you get and you turn it into  
Honesty Promise me I'm never gonna find you fake it" Complicated, Avril Lavigne.  
_

**Toulouse, France, October 17th of 2003.  
**  
She woke up with the first light of the morning invading her rooms.  
  
Oh, shit, she was so depressed. Arien couldn't help it. There was hardly a year she wasn't down that day. It was her birthday - she was now twenty-nine years old, but people thought she was nineteen.

She had one of the highest marks Hogwarts had in the last century, below Hermione and Draco Malfoy, and above some other Ravenclaw she couldn't remember. Her O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s had been damn close to perfect. She had been working as an Auror- alongside with Sirius, and previously in those few weeks with her almost-team - for sixth months. Her records were remarkable, specially for having such a high mark of captures in such little time. But apart from her natural talent for hunt; her success was due to her keener senses; longer time awake available and her little 'g_ift_'. Only in this new and strange world she understood how useful it was, how dangerous when in the wrong hands.  
  
But her success had a price. Goddamn awful headaches that lasted for miserable hours.

Arien found out that she was a fabulous failure in the private field. She had miscalculated stupidly with Sirius. She must have a soft spot to complicated, silent, stealthy, dark and supercilious men. And that was driving her crazy.  
  
It was obvious that he was attracted- she didn't need to read him to know '_that'_. And it was even more obvious that he wouldn't do a damn thing about it. She had been friendly, she had teased, had provoked jealousy, done basically everything in the book and yet he was standing. That was so damn frustrating!  
  
She'd rather forget the man. Her life was complicated enough as it was.  
  
.::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::(''): :..::('')::..:  
  
**Barcelona, Spain, 1st December of 2003**

They wouldn't have much of a time, Harry thought. His mind raced again through the clues and guidelines their secret source inside the Dark Army gave them. Whoever the mad guy was, he was doing a damn good job.  
  
Today was one of those very rare days in which the whole Light Army was called to duty. Some wizards with a good comprehension of the muggle world were posing as them, spread around the Plaça de Sant Josep Oriol, while other wizards discreetly tried to avoid a greater number of real muggles. The Death eaters were supposed to appear anytime in the next ten minutes for another of their lightning meetings, probably planning another slain of muggles, muggle-borns and light wizards. Too bad for them- their lack of focus had been of great help to the Light side.  
  
The trap had been artfully settled, and the prey would be there in no time. And yet all he could think about was Suzie hidden in the Fortress at Wales and the tinny baby she gave birth two weeks ago.  
  
From the corner of his eyes he saw Draco drinking a coffee and Ginny talking nervously with Ron. Their lack of qualified people had finally forced the central command to give some Unspeakables to the field work. A group of top class Aurors - including himself- had already drawn a magical wall that would keep them from apparating once activated -what would happen as soon as they got inside.  
  
And then a group of unsuspecting men apparated in the safe spots near the plaza and headed to the coffee that would lead to their meeting place.  
  
One. Two. Three. Four. _now.  
_  
Wards up.

.::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::(''): :..::('')::..:

And so the nightmare went for excruciating half an hour. When they were certain they had no living opponent within the wards, it was bent down . Harry held his ribs- he had been hit by cruciatus, but Ron saved- again!- his life killing the wizard who did it. He was sick of the pain, somehow he got caught by it every now and then, like he was the damn hero of some silly story and the writer had a sadistic pleasure in making sure he got hurt- badly hurt- every now and then. He'd survive, of course; as heroes only die in the final battle, saving the world and having their sweethearts crying over them. Not a prospect he liked much. Actually, he didn't think he'd choose that ending, no matter what the writer had in mind.  
  
"Thank you, dude." He said to Ron, who was looking very pissed off himself. "Saved my life."  
  
Ron's lips twitched a little. "No big deal, pal. That's what we do all time, huh?" but there was something in his tone that didn't fit .  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
"She'll live. It's Ginny I'm worried with, she got pretty beat up."  
  
"Oh, shit."  
  
The Knight bus appeared out of nowhere, as usual, and the injured wizards were levitated to the beds. Harry still got a glimpse of Ginny- now a brunette- being led into the bus. When it was full, the driver put the automobile into an insane speed towards the nearest wizarding hospital - what was its name? He didn't remember.  
  
Draco approached them with a piece of paper in his hands. " In the case you've been worrying yourselves to death." He handed it to them. "Can you take care of it, Potter? I'd rather be in Salinas."  
  
Salinas. That's the name.  
  
"Of course." He replied quickly. Ron went to pick Hermione who was resting in one of the chairs of the café. "I'll be there as soon as I can."  
  
"Okay." They had a truce, but seven years of mutual hatred wouldn't vanish that quickly. So it was civility between the two of them- and that was it.  
  
"Harry!" a familiar voice called him.  
  
"Hey, Sirius!" he patted his godfather's shoulder. "Good to see you in one piece."  
  
"Good to be in one piece, too. But I'm not important, how are you?" in all those years , Sirius hadn't change in that matter - I'm not important, how are 'you'?.  
  
"I'll live. Nothing serious."  
  
"Don't kid, me boy. Are you alright?"  
  
"Yeah, just a little sore. Be new in the morning."  
  
"Good. Look, I've got to go now. See you tomorrow?"

.::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::(''): :..::('')::..:

Somehow the sly bastard- meaning Sirius- had got hold of the _when_ and _where_ of the D.E. meeting. This was an extraordinarily rare opportunity to take loads of them down at once. Not that there were much of them left - but still enough to give the Aurors a hard time.  
  
Arien had been helping on putting the wards up with some other wizards. Bill Weasley, Harry Potter, Jean-Pierre and Sirius, along with some others she didn't really know. The atmosphere was so thick the half-elf could hardly breathe, clutching her wand inside her pockets. They'd come anytime now. And then they were there. Some apparating, others by Portkey. A hundred or so dark wizards left the alley and went to the Bar they'd slip into for the meeting. The meeting they'd never have. Sirius gave them a signal and the wards were pulled up, closing all wizards in. It was a very dangerous position, for it could work against them as well.

As soon as they realised it was a trap, the D.E. drew their wands, all pretences forgotten. They fought like the cornered animals they were, casting unforgivables right and left. Not that the Aurors were any kinder. The very few muggles who escaped their scrutiny didn't last long.  
  
_"Stupefy!"  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
"Avada Kedavra!"  
  
"Crucio!"_  
  
They fought hard. She'd give them that- but then again, they were defending their lives. A multitude of unforgivables were cast all over.  
  
Arien felt her shields being mined away and then it began to undo her. She hadn't been hit -yet. But the pain of the cursed wizards around her, the primal fear, the raw pleasure of killing, broke her barriers and punched her. Concentrating got harder, her movements slowed down, pain filled her in. and then they hit her- _really hit her_.  
  
If Arien thought experiencing other's pain was tough, it was far worse when it was her own.  
  
Somewhere in the back of her mind she noticed that someone got the wizard who cursed her and the pain lessened to a more bearable level. In those seconds, thought, the elf-maiden cursed her heightened sensibility. She was able to stand up still, and continued her task- frighteningly aware of her own mortality now. For even when she'd always known she could die, it had never been so close, so real. Now it was- and Arien was terrified. As scared as she'd been the day she crossed the Portal.  
  
Apparently the lot of wizards there wasn't the most powerful one- one has to have some level of power to successfully cast the killing curse. They were rather casting _crucio_ and hoping it would slow the Aurors so they could find a way out. But the Aurors had another plan.  
  
She shut her mind again, forcefully, trying to block the uncalled for feelings and have something of a clear mind. Arien was furious with herself. But then, as she wasn't listening anymore, and spells were being thrown by any direction, she got hit again.  
  
And the second hadn't been any kinder.  
  
When she managed to stand up again, breathing like she'd run a bloody triathlon, it was all over. They were picking the injured, covering the dead, listing who was still well and who was not.  
  
The elf leaned against the column of a store nearby and cast a glance around. Hermione was breathing laboriously, trying to regain some composure in a chair at the café on the other side of the street. Harry was still standing, and looked very bad as well. Ron had the look of one who saw the sinister. Sirius was crossing the square searching for known faces, those who were injured and those who were dead. A group of Unspeakables from Portugal were gathering the bodies of the Death eaters. Not a single one alive. Ginny was... Arien narrowed her eyes, noticing with a sense of wonder that she needed to in order to see better. Ginny was lying on the floor, her delicate figure embraced by her husband- who didn't look like he'd had the time of his life himself.  
  
With a shuddering breath and a mental shrug Arien forced her barriers to open again- just to feel the pain once more. No, Ginny was still alive. Pretty beaten up, but still alive.  
  
At that moment a Knightbus appeared and the unharmed warriors took the injured in. The bus was going to take them to the hospital, she recalled numbly. A young wizard approached her and tried to ask if she was all right, but she couldn't understand what he was saying. Arien had a feeling she should, that it was a language she knew and spoke several times, but she just couldn't figure the meaning of the words right now. The world was spinning and the light was hurting her eyes. Every scream, every whisper hurt her ears.  
  
"I'm sorry, I don't understand you."  
  
And then she fell into unconsciousness.  
  
.::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::(''): :..::('')::..:

Arien didn't know for how long she'd been there- wherever '_there'_ was. but she did know the room was too full of light. Everything was so sickeningly white and clear her aching head screamed in protest. Dark. She needed it dark. And silent. And deserted, if she could get it. The least stimuli her exhausted mind got, the better.  
  
"How do you feel?" said a worried voice somewhere near her feet. Arien winced involuntarily. Good Lord, couldn't they leave her alone? She just wanted nice and quiet. Not a million galleons. Not the power to enslave the world. Not the most absurdly handsome man to be her Sex toy. Just nice and quiet.  
  
"Like I've been run down by a couple of curses." She answered, her voice throaty and weird. Self-pity invaded the elf- oh bugger, she'd been 'hit'. And not only hit but _HIT_. If the wizard were a real class A Death Eater, she'd be dead. What kind of Auror was she to be so stupidly hit when she got a little distracted by her barriers?  
  
"Doctors said you'd be good as new in a couple of hours." Sirius informed. Yes, it was him. But even through the contentment his presence ensured, there was something at the back of her mind, pressing, pressing. Something dreadfully important.  
  
"Ginny?"  
  
"She'll stay a bit longer. But she's recovering very well."  
  
"How long have I been here?" Arien couldn't remember ever passing out in her life. But she did. She fainted. She was hit and she fainted. She'd never face herself in the mirror again.  
  
"A couple of hours. Rest now, you'll be all right in the morning."  
  
"Can I go rest in my quarters?"  
  
"No. No wizard with a bit of sense defies a mediwizard when they are nursing a patient." He chuckled, and she groaned. All right, then she was stuck in that hell of light for a couple more of hours.  
  
"But could you turn the lights out?"  
  
"Yes, I could. Not afraid of the dark?" he teased.  
  
"No. It's easier to hide in the dark" she muttered before slipping back to sleep. He stood there a couple of minutes before leaving. When he got to the door, however, her voice stopped him.  
  
"I failed you. I'm so sorry."  
  
"No, you didn't. now go back to sleep."  
  
.::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::(''): :..::('')::..::('')::.  
  
That had been so awfully close. Sirius couldn't believe it. Perhaps their time together lead him to develop a somewhat - an utterly- childish belief that she was untouchable. That some God in heaven looked after her 24/7 and nothing bad would ever happen.  
  
But it did.  
  
When he got hold of the list he almost lost it. Almost. There were a good forty wizards at Salinas Hospital for Magical Maladies, other two dozen had been taken care for light injuries and the after-effects of cruciatus, twenty had been killed, and he had a pile of one hundred and four dark wizards to bury. He couldn't have the luxury of a nervous breakdown.  
  
Thank goodness Harry was unharmed, though.  
  
But she was not. She was lying in that hospital bed as if a tank had run over her. Ginny hadn't recovered consciousness yet. And Muller hadn't resisted and died not an hour ago.  
  
_'I failed you. I'm so sorry'.  
_  
What did she think she was, god's gift to mankind? Wonderwoman? Did she had to behave like a damn sappy novel heroin? Geez, this is real world. In the real world people may get hit. Okay, so her little slip could've cost her life. Yuck. So we see what happened, we fix it, and we move on. No dwelling in guilt or anything. He had learnt that lesson long ago - guilt doesn't change anything, it only eats you inside.  
  
They were so close now. A few months more and it'd be over. So close ...  
  
.::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::(''): :..::('')::..::('')::.  
  
****

**Salinas Hospital for Magical Maladies, Spain; 8th of December of 2003.**  
  
White. everything was white.  
  
She was laying in a -sort of- bed, in a very stoic room. Her body ached lightly, like she'd been recovering from some kind of accident.  
  
There was a man beside her, sitting in the only available chair. Raven hair and grey eyes - and something inside her stirred. It was, it was good to have him there, reassuring in an odd sort of way.  
  
But what was his name?  
  
What was _her_ name?  
  
She couldn't remember.  
  
He stretched and looked straight at her eyes, with such an unmasked expression of utter love and relief she felt warmed. It was a very good thing, because panic was already claiming her.  
  
"Good morning, Ginny. I'm glad you're back."  
  
Ginny. Her name was Ginny. She didn't feel like Ginny, though. It was odd, but Ginny ... Ginny did not have enough syllables. But why did it feel so familiar?  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
"In the hospital, hon. Doctors say you'll be able to get leave in a few day's time."  
  
So many questions. Where the hospital is? What is my name? Are you my brother? Do I have a family? - it felt important to know, somehow, she craved for one. It felt as if she did have one and she needed it badly. But was it her wild emotions playing a trick on her?  
  
"Who am I?" she asked, unable to hold the question any longer. She heard his sharp intake of breath, and recalled oddly that he only run his hands over his hair when he was nervous.  
  
But his hair wasn't dark. He was blonde. Why was his hair not blonde?  
  
"You are Ginny. Virginia Elizabeth Malfoy, my wife, an Unspeakable for the Global Government of Magic. Your brothers are worried sick about you, and they'll be here before noon. I'll have to speak with the doctors about this. I ... " he seemed at a loss, and she recalled that she had seen him like that before ... it was almost there, just waiting to emerge, it was ...  
  
"Gin, dear, are you all right?" he asked quietly.  
  
_"Gin, dear, are you all right?"  
  
"All right? ALL RIGHT? I'M NO BLOODY RIGHT! I'M FURIOUS!" I'M---"  
  
"Maybe I should strengthen the silencing spells before we move on? He asked sheepishly. She positively fumed. And nodded.  
  
"Now, you may speak. But I'd appreciate if you didn't scream. My ears hurt."  
_  
_"If you go on with this stupid idea of yours it'll not only be you ears hurting."  
  
"I know." He said quietly.  
  
"Why?" she asked even quieter, which startled him somehow.  
  
"Like I said, Ginny, I'll have to pick a side. I'm not a Gryffindor, courage is not my best trait, and I most definitely would like to be chased by ONLY ONE side of the war, if possible."  
  
It had been in Hogwarts. Her sixth year, his seventh.  
_  
"I'm not, but I'll be. I just have to sort some things out."  
  
Awkwardly he reached for a button near her bed, calling the doctors. After hours of examination they said it had probably been the shock - neurotransmitters, or something like it. Memory would probably come back in its own pace, there were nothing they could do about it, blah, blah, blah. Rest, vitamins, being surrounded by familiar faces was all she needed, natural stimuli would do the rest.  
  
Virginia. Yes, that was her name. That had syllables enough.  
  
.::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::('')::..::(''): :..::('')::..::('')::.  
  
**Arizona, April of 2004.**  
  
"We still have some time left. Want to go see the city?" Sirius asked coolly. They had a couple of hours still, and Arien always loved to see places. A natural adventurous explorer. Wasn't she a Gryffindor? No, a Ravenclaw.  
  
"No thanks. I've got to let something left for the eagles." She replied in a very good mood. She had been suspiciously light and happy since New year, and that somehow unsettled him. He'd missed something, but what?  
  
"The eagles?"  
  
"My Ravenclaw Classmates. We are called the eagles."  
  
"And?"  
  
"We promised we would get hold of this huge reward from the ministry for all our bravery in the war, buy a nice racing broom and a tent, and just see the world. I'm leaving some places to explore with them." She finished with a grin.  
  
Suited them. Planning. The whole adventure thing, however , was quite odd - but then again, those were strange days. He couldn't really claim that gryffindors were the only ones to have fun, could he?  
  
She tucked her hair behind her ear, the place was just so hot, and his blood froze for a moment.  
  
Because her right hand had a band golden ring.


	12. Epilogue: Close the curtains

Epilogue: _Close the curtains._

"Closing time - time for you to go out, go out into the world.   
Closing time - turn the lights up over every boy and every girl.   
Closing time - one last call for alcohol, so finish your whiskey or beer.   
Closing time - you don't have to go home but you can't stay here.   
I know who I want to take me home.   
I know who I want to take me home.   
I know who I want to take me home.   
Take me home...   
  
Closing time - time for you to go back to the places you will be from.   
Closing time - this room won't be open 'til your brothers or you sisters come.   
So gather up your jackets, and move it to the exits - I hope you have found a friend.   
Closing time - every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.   
  
Yeah, I know who I want to take me home.   
I know who I want to take me home.   
I know who I want to take me home.   
Take me home...   
  
Closing time - time for you to go back to the places you will be from...   
  
I know who I want to take me home.   
I know who I want to take me home.   
I know who I want to take me home.   
Take me home...   
  
Closing time - every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end...."

Closing time, Semisonic.

****

.::(~'*'~)::.

@ Ireland, Cork - Black Manor. July 1st of 2145.

After one hundred and fifty years waiting, the portal would finally be opened in a fortnight. If she would only fall into yet another new world or if she would go back to good old Middle-Earth was anybody's guess.

Arien put the last of her robes on her bag and closed it. The room before her was now empty and cold, even when she should not feel the temperature. She was cold inside. 

She had bought a truck to take her belongings. The parallel was truly comic- she'd come in a wagon and would return in a truck. Ha. Inside the automobile- like everything else around her, enchanted, so it would be larger inside than it looked outside-, she had placed her carefully collected treasures: Photographic albums, the trip diaries the Eagles had written, Magic books - a whole library of them, one hundred and eighty five thousands meticulously picked titles she had gathered since her student days in Hogwarts-, huge supplies of magical ingredients and cauldrons, her brooms and other personal things, her wand-making sets, and the several journals she had kept in those one hundred and fifty years on earth. A habit Dumbledore had instilled on her.

Her memories written down.

Her agony and claustrophobia in Hogwarts, as well as all the joys she'd found in the school. Her wanderings throughout the world and all the adventures she'd lived among both wizards and muggles. Her meteorical model career, her years at Avalon University of Magic as an Apprentice of Light, her years working as a researcher for the Ministry of Magic. Those last thirty amazingly exhausting and exciting years she worked as a professor at Hogwarts, as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and Head of Ravenclaw. Eventually the wizarding community was lead to believe she had accidentally drank a potion that made it impossible for her to age as time went by – she still looked like a teenager. It had been a very delicate issue with her students – they were also Ravenclaws.

And the most important of all - the memory of the experiences she had had with her loved ones.

Loved ones. All her friends, her second family, and Sirius.

Sirius.

They had never been apart after that Easter. Arien even bought the fight with the Lady of the Lake to allow him inside the Island for the time she was there. He was with her in her university, in her travelling, always understanding her drive, her ambition, and her passion. Never failing to give her support and counselling. And she had agreed on spending most of the year on Black Manor, as research was, after all a job one could do at home. A lab in the first floor and that's all she needed. They travelled the world together, living one great adventure after the other, giving each other what they needed most- she gave him love and joie de vivre, and he gave her acceptance, experience, stability and wisdom- not elven wisdom, but the kind of wisdom that comes from one who saw too much darkness, who survived many things, who learnt to savour life and its simple things. Some people would cal it common sense, she called it wisdom. 

The doom of men had taken its toil, of course. Her husband died, at the respectable age of one hundred and seventy. Dumbledore, Molly, Severus, Minerva, Bill, Fred and George, Draco, Ginny ... all of them died, not so long ago - one by one, she was deprived of all those she loved. Their friends' children were also getting old and would soon be gone.

Next day she would go to Gringots and empty their vaults. All that could be turned into gold had been, except for the Manor- Arien hadn't had the heart to sell it. As they hadn't had any kids, it was given to Eddie and Amanda's grandchild, the lovely Sabrina. Arien would distribute some other gifts to some new friends she had made along the way and take with her the rest.

Her fingers ran lovingly a necklace she remembered seeing at her mothers neck several times. It hadn't been made after her exile, she was certain- it was something she had with her when she was trapped in a new world. It was so beautiful it hurt her eyes – memories of a life she had buried, and now were coming back from the Never Land.

The pain in her heart had subdued to bearable levels, and she had no doubt she would be back to one piece soon. She was a survival – that had been her major trait for as long as she could remember. The pure power to survive anything life may have in store.

She still had a long list of things she wanted to purchase before going to her own Big Adventure. A list of books she hadn't found in her last trips to Diagon Alley, and had to call for them directly from the publishers. A lot of _unicorn hair powder bottles_, and even some _unicorn blood_ on the black market – Professor Sanders had ordered them for her. She had seeds of magical herbs, colonies of fungi and all.

With a sigh she magically locked her trunk. No much time for reminiscences tonight. She was doing the right thing, she knew it- she'd go mad in that world, no matter how fascinating , or how beautiful, it was. 

She had suffered far too much for someone her age. For someone any age. it was time for some nice and quiet, where she could lick her wounds in peace and heal on her lair, till the time she felt strong enough to go out in the open and face the world- whatever world.

But Sirius was right. She would do it all over again.

The last knight of an age of heroes. Not that she considered herself a heroin- it was too pompous a name. But there was no other participant of the Second War against Voldemort alive. And soon she'd be gone.

Wandering through the now empty halls of that beloved piece of land in fair Ireland- oh how Sirius loved that place! They would travel all over the world, but they would always return there. Return home. In no other place he would feel at peace like in there – she remembered the portraits that had hung in the walls, and were now wrapped in sheets and stored in the truck, along with the pieces of furniture she'd take, books and magical supplies. The waving pictures had been a delight and a torture- to see her friends alive and moving, and in some pictures even talking, and remember they were long gone – oh!

But fate wanted her to loose what she had achieved. And not even her power as a witch could stop Fate. She couldn't stop death – delay, yes, but only so far.

She stopped in the middle of the huge living hall at the first floor. That house had been built for a big family, for plenty of kids running up and down the stairs and playing havoc in the lands. But Sirius couldn't have children, and he loved Harry's child as it was his own. It had been her only secret pain, one he sometimes suspected but she never showed- a secret she could never tell him, as she couldn't tell him of the whereabouts of Severus Snape and the true identity of her friend and ex-lover Alex – that she had wanted to give him a child, see his eyes shining bright with the joy of guiding a life to character and fortitude. But maybe it was better that way. She knew what it was like to lose a father- and it was something she'd like to spare her children, knowing they'd live as much as she did.

The end of the Black line.

It had a bit of poetry, that Black would see his beloved state in the hands of the heiress of Potter and Malfoy. Sabrina Potter was a lovely girl, with messy platinum blonde hair and emerald green eyes, with the best of both families' traits – and she had been a Hufflepuff! Professor Arien Black had almost fallen from the chair when the girl was sorted, Eddie and Mandy had been fighting over which house their granddaughter should be in – Slytherin or Gryffindor. Arien had risked Ravenclaw, and the proud parents were avoiding telling anything. And the girl end up in Hufflepuff!

She would have to '_die' eventually, as she was already a one hundred and sixty year old witch. It was a perfect time to leave the stage and let the others shine on their roles._

New players for an old game.

Time to close the curtains and end the show. The thing was, there would be no one in the theatre to clap. No one to hold her hand and tell her she had made a brilliant performance, that everything would be alright in the end. She had made new friends, of course, among Hogwarts staff, and the offspring of her friends, and some of her students as well. But she had no illusion- she'd have to go through that alone, as she had come.

The years hadn't improved her absolute lack of skill in Arithmancy. But Professor Woods had calculated the probable date and time of the gate for her based on Dumbledore's notes. Well, Middle-Earth would have to live with it. Eventually, as she was teaching, Professor Celine Reece had managed to teach her something about divination. Though it actually really sucked, because it was never that precise. After a few lessons about tea leaves, and planets, and crystal balls and tarot cards, Arien quit it. 

July 15th.

She was going home.

_Was she?_

.::(~'*'~)::..::(~'*'~)::..::(~'*'~)::..::(~'*'~)::..::(~'*'~)::..::(~'*'~)::..::(~'*'~)::. .::(~'*'~)::.

@ Ered Mithrin, Middle-Earth, July 24th of 2910 of the Third Age ((A.N.: at the foot.))

She had been at the right time in the Black forest, and saw, with a mixture of relief and dread, the contours of the marble gate appearing before her eyes. With a final quick hug for her goddaughter Sabrina she drove her truck through it. And …

__

_Damn._

__

'This is not where I'm supposed to be. Where the hell is the sea of Rhûn?' 

Arien took her old map out of her pocket and muttered "_point me" to her wand- a tricky little charm Hermione had once taught her, while they were still students at Hogwarts._

A chain of mountains on the south (in front of her) that crossed another on the west (on her right).

Holy shit.

She went straight back to the Dorian Empire. Or rather, either what would be or what once had been the Dorian Empire. The whole area was desert now, no sign of life for hundreds of miles.

With a deep sigh, she controlled her tears- even if there would be no one to see them – and put the truck in movement. Thank goodness the trip would be very quick. An automobile- and an _enchanted automobile – would run way faster than any horse, from Rohan or not, and she did have the advantage of knowing exactly where she wanted to go. She would be in Antar in a week or so._

.::(~'*'~)::..::(~'*'~)::..::(~'*'~)::..::(~'*'~)::..::(~'*'~)::..::(~'*'~)::..::(~'*'~)::. .::(~'*'~)::.

((A.N.: the portals are not exact in their transportation in neither time nor location. I guess she was very lucky on being taken to the right dimension , in the end. Arien is returning from Middle-Age 2874 years after the year she left (and she spent 150 year at Earth), and she was brought to a place very far off where she was either. Ered Mithrin are also known as the Grey Mountains, and they are north of Mirkwood – she came back to the place where the Dorian empire once was. She'll have to travel it all over again – but this time she does know the shorter route!.))

So this is it, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for listening. I had thoroughly enjoyed being with you in these 80,000 words. As things are, I have to tell a secret: the sequel wasn't exactly written because I had liked this so much: it was only that I wrote _this story_ because I wanted to make a base for the next story. Hope you have enjoyed yourselves, and I haven't bothered you (much =] ).

By the way, the name of the Sequel - already on line – is The Renegades: Lady of Magic

See ya! And don't forget to review!


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